Harry Potter and the Rune of Mirrors
by USAAuror
Summary: While trying to unlock the secrets of a rune that supposedly can show the future, a horrible accident in Luna's lab leaves her as a mental patient at St. Mungos, with jumbled memories, and unable to use magic. Hermione takes on the challenge of deciphering what happened in the experiment while risking that she will meet the same fate.
1. Memories are just where you laid them

A/N: J.K. Rowling owns the characters.

Please review. I am trying to follow canon with this story and keep the characters in character. I would appreciate it if you would point out errors. Complements are nice too.

 **1\. Memories are just where you laid them.**

Curly blond hair made its appearance from around the corner just prior to one large blue eye. A held breath released itself from the young woman's lungs as she saw the empty hallway ahead. She knew this was the way out after walking with her visitor as he left three days ago. She just acted more "normal" and he didn't mind conversing with her as they went toward the room with the lifts. He said he couldn't let her down this passageway but she'd stood and watched him and waved goodbye as he stepped through that doorway at the end.

He had said "Had to use lifts, because they can't have fireplaces on this floor." She didn't really understand what he meant. She knew about lifts though; she could remember that.

She also knew she just had to go home. Perhaps this time the healers wouldn't get to her before she made it off the floor. She hadn't gotten down the stairwells, yet. Maybe the lifts would be different. This was the furthest she'd ever been since being placed here. Someone once said that doing the same thing over and over while expecting different results was the definition of insane. Perhaps she was.

Oddly, all those times she tried leaving, she never heard them running after her; just a popping noise and suddenly hands were grasping her arms.

Hurrying down the passageway to the opening, she forced deep breaths to quell the rising panic while hoping this was the place. So close now. There's the lifts and the button…pushing it! Her palm presses hard against her mouth to hold back the stuttering sobs that threatened to give her away. She'd taken to sudden outbursts when the fear rose up inside, and this place had terrifying moments.

Those people really were crazy. Not her…no.

Pounding on the doors with her free hand, she nervously shifted from foot to foot. Finally, with a ding, the doors opened. She scurried inside and pressed the ground floor button. More anxious minutes burned away while she shuffled back and forth touching all the walls in turn. She began to whisper along with the pacing. "How do I….go home…Mamaí…need Mam….Da…". When the doors finally opened again, she spun to face them. Upon stepping forward, she quickly reversed direction with a gasp, tripped over her own feet and fell on her bum. A sob slipped past her lips as she looked up with wide eyes.

"Hello Luna, the wards warned us you were on your way out."

"Healer O'Dwyer! Wards? How?" she exclaimed as the tears leaked onto her cheeks. She'd just left the ward.

"It's fine. We'll just go back up to the seventh floor."

Healer Beth O'Dwyer bent down and moved Luna's legs back into the lift. She straightened up while pushing the button with the seven. The doors slid shut sealing the portal and ending Luna's hopes with a barely audible whoosh. The planning, the remembering meal times and break times…and routines…all for nothing. Two weeks, waiting for an opening, convincing Lockhart his fan club was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, and getting Alice to throw her food all over her room. See? She's smart…she can plan…not crazy!…no!…she can remember...not the things they want her to, but she can remember.

It's just…all that work and she still couldn't go home.

She responded in the only way her tortured mind would let her. She wept. Pressing her fist against her mouth couldn't stop the gut wrenching sobs that poured forth. Her breaths came in ragged gasps that weren't enough. She started to panic, knowing she would hyperventilate and pass out. The lift lurched to a stop. Then arms were pulling her into a hug.

"Shush-shush my little witch. It's only Beth. I won't let anything happen. Be still and hold on to me. Breathe Luna, just breathe. We'll stay right here until you're ready to go." the healer crooned.

Luna's crying began to slow as she calmed at the presence of the gentle touch. It reminded her of the other woman who was quick to pull her close when the panic began. Hermione would stroke Luna's hair or brush light fingers on her face as she squeezed her tightly. She visited a lot, asking questions about a logbook, an experiment and a fire that Luna didn't understand. She remembered waking up with her clothes and some of her hair on fire, the burning on her legs and back, then a man with water coming from his hand. She touched her smooth legs and, again, doubted the reality of that memory. With Hermione, the pressure for an answer was always slight and removed completely when Luna's breathing quickened too much. Still, there remained a feeling of expectation from her that Luna couldn't quite decipher.

Drawing a shuddering breath, she spoke, "I-I-I'm n-not Luna, you know. I t-told y-you-u that. I was Luna for a short time. Not Luna now. Not now. No."

Beth's tone sharpened slightly. "I know, but you have to pretend for your visitors, or they can't see you."

"I'm not invisible when I'm not Luna. I can still see me."

The healer smiled and said brightly, "There's the Luna we know! I meant they wouldn't be allowed to visit you if you don't pretend you're Luna. You have visitors waiting for you now."

"Oh, ok. I can be Luna, for now."

The lift jerked into motion as she hoped that it wasn't the long-haired man with the funny eye. He had been foolish enough to show the way to the lifts but she might just decide to not be Luna if it was him. He says he's her father. She remembered seeing him doing a weird dance in an odd yellow suit and, strangely enough, she also recalled seeing him standing in front of a blue door wearing only skimpy underpants. That's all she remembered about him. Da didn't look like that. She called this guy "Mr Underpants"; not to his face.

The doors opened and Beth led her out of the lift. She followed without making a fuss. Cooperating made everything easier. It kept them from restraining her like they did the first time. Another chance would come along. Luna can bide her time.

"It's Miss Granger again. Like clockwork, every week"

"I know. Hermione's nice…. but she's afraid of something too. Afraid and sad. I know she cries sometimes when she leaves. I see it building up when we talk. She doesn't want to cry around me, but I know. I know but pretend that I don't."

"You're nice to others, Luna, even the other patients. You're a good person. You just have to let us help."

"Not Luna, just pretending. Pretending for Hermione."

"Her two friends are with her, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley."

Luna stopped. "They make it harder to talk. I can't look at their faces. There's something wrong with their faces and I get confused. Then…then… I can't remember right."

"I've looked and I can't see anything wrong."

"There is. There is! I see….their eyes…not right…Hermione's, yes…theirs...no, no, no. Don't look…don't see."

Beth spoke soothingly, "It's all right. You'll be just fine. You don't have to look at their faces. I'm sure Hermione remembers. She'll help."

Luna started moving forward again. "Erm…yes, she will."

She strode deliberately toward the door to her room. She could manage as long as she didn't look at the men. They are nice too and they don't talk down to her. It's not their fault she remembers them wrong. As she neared the open door, she heard Harry's voice and stopped.

"…..ting worse, Hermione. That's the healers, not me. Five months, you've run yourself ragged trying to piece this mess together. Anyway, you can't keep working on it when we go south and you can't visit. Don't give me that look. I didn't assign Ron and me as escorts; that was Robards. Two missing Death Eaters might be at McMurdo. Not a sure thing since the wizard who reported it only caught a glimpse in Christchurch. So you get second-year trainees as bodyguards along with one full Auror. We are also spying at the American's station. We will be disguised, but you won't. Regardless, I've gotten off topic. Maybe you should start backing away from this.

"Wait one minute, mate. Luna's been there for us, no matter what. I'm sticking with this until we sort it out or we realize there's no way to fix it. I don't have much time off work, but it's my time and you can't tell me how to use it. I choose to help Hermione with this."

"Ron, I didn't mean drop it completely. I just…"

Hermione interrupted, "Good evening, Healer O'Dwyer. Luna! Are you all right? You look like you've been upset."

Luna shuffled into the room, looking down at their feet. "Been crying. Hello Harry…Ron. I'm happy you came to visit, Hermione. I was trying to go home, but they wouldn't let me."

"Which home? Near Ottery St. Catchpole?"

Luna shook her head, whispering, "No. My real home."

Hermione sighed. "I'm sorry. We told you we went there and no one knew who you were."

"I know. They're not remembering what they should."

To ease the tension, Beth spoke up. "Hermione, did I hear right that you're taking a trip?"

"Yes, to Antarctica. Newt and Rolf Scamander claim to have discovered a species of bird that has some of the abilities of fire salamanders and live inside Mount Erebus. That's a volcano on Ross Island. They think these may be related to the phoenix. Since I'm the newest employee in the DRCMC, I have to go verify the Scamanders' report and evaluate how we can minimize the possibility of Muggles discovering them. A representative from the United States office is also going to witness the verification. The UK office gets credit since Newt is a citizen of Australia. Exciting, isn't it?"

"Certainly sounds like it.", said Beth. "Well, I'll leave you to your visit."

"Australia", Luna piped up as she looked at Hermione's smiling face. "Your parents, in Australia."

"Yes, they were. Ron and I went to get them, last year before school. They are home now after some time here at St. Mungos."

"I don't know them."

Hermione's smile faltered, "You met them, at Christmas at Hogwarts. And here. I brought them on your birthday."

"They were different. Scary. I remembered but couldn't remember them right."

"I know and I won't bring them back, until you feel better. They really like you, though, and want you to get well so you can visit."

"I am well…just not **your** well."

"So, Luna, what do you think of our trip to Antarctica?" Ron stated awkwardly changing the subject.

Looking down at his knees, Luna spoke quietly, "I think you will be cold. Volcanos are very hot. Dangerous. You need to keep my friend safe."

"I'm your friend too. You know that, right?"

"You say so and I saw the ceiling picture. You weren't nice at the beach house. Said I should be thinner."

"I don't remember that and I have apologized. You said you forgive me."

"Forgive is not being friends. You are being nice….want to help me…so….keep Hermione….safe…..then, yes…friends." Luna mumbled as she sat down in the chair across from Harry.

Ron remained serious, "Of course. She can take care of herself, but I will always be there for her."

"I know. I see that you love her." She smiled. "Strong love that makes me happy for her."

Luna saw Hermione's face get that slightly sad look that happened when they talked alone.

She turned her eyes to Harry's knees. "You keep my friend safe too. And yourself."

She saw Harry's smile in her peripheral vision and watch his hand pat her knee.

"Thanks Luna; you have always been a good friend. We'll be careful, but we will look around some, maybe walk on a glacier. You don't go to Antarctica every day."

"When will Hermione have to stop visiting me?"

"We go down in six weeks, August, with the crew getting the station ready for the summer. Those suspects did a winter-over and should still be there. The next flight out won't be until October.

Oh…right, Ron, I forgot to tell you who our new junior team member is. Draco Malfoy will be coming into McMurdo on the first October flight."

Ron was instantly livid, "Malfoy! Oh, fuck that!"

"Ron!" hissed Hermione.

"He's top of his Auror class; so far ahead that no one can catch him. He gets his choice of field team and wanted ours. So, unless something changes between now and graduation…"

Wiping his hand across his face Ron moaned, "Why us? What could…ya know, never mind. We can just hope something does happen."

Luna looked over at Hermione. "I remember you said Draco didn't like you. Is he going to cause you problems? Will you be ok?"

Quietly, Hermione answered, "Probably. I heard he changed since his father accepted full responsibility for the tortures at his mansion. He was different our last year at Hogwarts. Became a bit of a loner, though. The word around the Ministry is that Draco pushed hard to get into the Aurors."

Luna's eyes grew unfocused. "He was funny at first. Then he ignored me. When the pink lady was there, he talked to Harry, and the twins a lot…they played jokes on you and Ron. Did you know he colors his hair?"

Hermione looked confused. Harry and Ron took great interest in the minimal activity in the passageway and the ceiling tiles respectively.

"I'm not remembering right, am I?" Luna whispered as she brought a shaky hand to her chest.

"I don't understand what you're talking about. They weren't friends in fifth year. Are you feeling all right, Luna?"

Luna shook her head and breathed out, "How do I feel? Like the song." Then she put on a thin smile as a tear rolled down one cheek. She hummed a few bars before starting to sing.

"How do you feel?

That is the question.

But I forget you don't expect an easy answer.

When something like a soul becomes

Initialized and folded up

Like paper dolls and little notes

You can't expect a bit of hope.

And while you're outside looking in

Describing what you see

Remember what you're staring at is me.

'Cause I'm looking at you through the glass.

Don't know how much time has passed.

All I know is that it feels like forever.

When no one ever tells you

That forever feels like home

Sitting all alone

Inside your head."

She finished and quietly let a few tears fall before speaking again.

"I remembered that song, last Sunday. Stone Sour released it 3 or 4 years ago. This part seemed to speak to how I feel now; how I'm a study subject. In this cage, you watch me and ask questions. I t-tell you what I know and you tell m-me it's wrong! The fire…good. Da…not g-good! Harry last week….good. D-d-uh-Harry last year….not good! Mirrors! I saw hundreds of mirrors in a black room j-just before I fell asleep; then the fire. Lots of…of me looking back at me. Is it real? I d-don't know. I can't….can't find me, anymore. I want me back."

Her tears were falling freely as Harry reached out to touch her knee. She flinched away, shifting toward Hermione. Gathering Luna up into her arms, Hermione pulled her to the bed.

Ron's voice: "Is there anything we can do to…"

"No…not!"

"Shhh, Luna. Thanks Ron, but it looks like you boys have to cut your visit short, this time."

Harry shrugged, "Good night, Luna. I'll come back next week." Then he gave Hermione a look that said, 'See what I mean?' She glared back at him.

Ron touched Hermione's shoulder and she reached up to squeeze his hand.

"Tomorrow; see you for lunch, love?"

"Yes, 12:30. I have a meeting before that."

"Sorted. 'Night, Luna."

The two men left the room.


	2. The Depths Give up Their Dead

A/N: J.K. Rowling owns the characters.

Please review. I am trying to follow canon with this story and keep the characters in character. I would appreciate it if you would point out errors.

 **2\. The Depths Give up Their Dead**

Luna visibly relaxed once the men left, but continued to hold Hermione tightly. Her sobbing increased as she released her feelings into her companion. Hermione simply whispered comforting words that had worked before. She noticed Healer O'Dwyer peek in the doorway, smile and quietly move on. The minutes passed as Hermione patiently calmed Luna's distressed weeping. Eventually, the young blonde quieted and pulled back from her bushy-haired consoler. Hermione reached up cupping Luna's cheek in her palm and stroking the tear tracks with her soft thumb. They remained that way a few moments with brown eyes looking into blue, a wistful smile gracing the brunette's face.

Luna broke the spell. "I'm sorry; I ruined the visit."

"You didn't." whispered Hermione as she slowly slid her hand off the woman's cheek. "You couldn't possibly."

Luna's eyes widened and she quickly ducked her head to look down at her hands. Pink cheeked, Hermione cleared her throat and immediately reached to the side table to retrieve her bag. Rummaging through it, she began speaking in her normal no-nonsense voice while pulling out notebook and quill.

"Ron's done well piecing your experiment log back together. Of course, it was burnt much more than the research notes, making it very difficult. He's really quite brilliant at puzzles. We've found that the missing words always seem more important than the ones that we can read. We are making progress, though. You remembered mirrors, and your research notes say that Idette de Travailleur spoke of seeing mirrors while she was unconscious after activating the rune. Do you remember much about them?"

"I remember it; I can't stop remembering. I didn't think anything before the fire was a real memory. Everything else I said from before? You said it was wrong."

"Not all of it. We have found some memories that seem right. You remembered the fight at the Department of Mysteries; well, most of it. Please tell me about the mirrors."

"Okay"

Luna closed her eyes, took several deep breaths and started speaking as if she were viewing a play.

"I am nude, standing, but I can't feel a floor. There's no light but I can see things…fuzzy round things. Voices with no sound put thoughts in my head and the fuzzy things become mirrors with silver frames. I see my naked reflection multiplied hundreds of times. Only…they're all not posed exactly like me. One of the mirror frames turns red and that Luna reaches for me while I reach back. The voices put more thoughts in my brain. The Luna in the red mirror smiles at me and I smile back. Then I am on fire. The man who says he's my father pours water on me. Water from his wand. I am hurting a lot."

Hermione's hand is on her shoulder. "The grain alcohol bottle flew off the table; broke and sprayed the workbench; ignited on the cauldron fire. Your dad ran in when he heard the explosion. He pulled you out."

The hand goes away.

"The voices were mentioned in your notes." Hermione opened her notebook and began flipping through the pages. "Voices..voices…Here! Solveig Wargsen told of them. He didn't say anything except that there were voices. Do you remember what they were saying?"

"Yes. They are not words but feelings that turn into words in small bursts. The first time: 'power for not part of'…. 'remembered not experienced'… 'time is not time'…. 'place is not place'…. 'you will see/hear/smell/feel/taste'. Then the mirrors appeared. The second time: 'question?'... 'what purpose?'…. 'see/hear/smell/feel/taste'…. 'Go'. Then the other Luna smiled."

Luna opened her eyes and watched Hermione finish writing some notes.

"This is great, Luna! Finally, a breakthrough that aligns with the past rune users. We've gone a long time without finding something new. Maybe it was good that you couldn't remember correctly about Malfoy."

"Maybe, but I still remember it. I want to stop thinking I'm the person who lived these memories. I want to be Luna again; the Luna that lives outside of this place. What happened to the right memories, Hermione?"

"I don't know. The healers thought it might a spell and tried to identify it. It is no spell that they can detect. The plan now is to come here every week and show you things from your past to try and trigger those memories."

"I know. I'm sorry I can't make them come back."

"It's all right. We know you're trying. These wrong memories, do you think the voices put them there?"

Luna thinks for a bit. "It feels like they were there before I saw the mirrors."

Hermione nodded, "Maybe that's part of your new memories too." She reached into her bag to pull out some papers and photographs.

She continued to talk as she organized the memory jogging items. "It seems so complex. Still, fixing it might be as simple as finding the right thing to open the old memories or activating the rune in a more controlled way. Ron and I are working on both. Look, I have more pictures of you from before the accident. Here's one from New York City, in the summer after graduation."

Luna looked at the three women in the picture. "That's Ginny, you and me. She doesn't visit me very much at all."

"Ginny's got a position on the Holyhead Harpies. She's a chaser.

"Right. Brooms and balls and big circles. I remember watching it on a giant screen. Is she happy?"

"Yes, she loves it. See, here we are at the top of the Empire State Building. Everyone goes there. You can see most of the city from the observation platform. Funny that magical people still visit it even though they can fly higher on their brooms."

They watched as the three friends waved at the camera moving so the background drifted right and a mass of large buildings became visible from the left.

Luna gasped bringing her hand to her mouth. "No, no, no!" She squeezed her eyes shut.

"What's wrong?"

"No. They're not there; all gone; all dead. Ashes, ashes…fallen down! All dead, all dead."

Dropping the picture, Hermione grabbed Luna's arms. "Luna, please tell me what you saw."

"There. The two tall ones." She pointed at the picture. "Those buildings are not supposed to be there; fell down when I was 10. Some terrorists flew airplanes into them."

"What?! They **were** there, I remember. What do you mean-when you were 10?"

"9-11…September 2001; saw it on the news after school."

"Luna, today is June 29th of 2000. That picture was taken in July of 1999."

"Is that the future? Did the rune give me memories of the future? I succeeded?!" Luna grinned and grabbed Hermione, squeezing her tightly. "I was right! I did it right."

"Maybe. It's not confirmed and a lot of people have to die for us to know for sure."

The blonde frowned, releasing her hug. "We have to do something. Tell the Americans and stop it."

"Luna, it's more than a year away and you're a mental patient. I'll tell someone at the Ministry, but it probably won't go far. Can you tell me something else from your remembered year of 2000? Something in the future that we can confirm?"

"My memories say I was 9. I didn't pay attention to the news; didn't know about magic. I'll start trying to recall some things and write them down; maybe give them to you next week."

"I hope you come up with something. You seem much more confident now than you've been in a long time."

"Because I was right! The rune can show the yet to come! These memories really aren't mine; just a window into the future. You don't know how much of a relief this is. I **am** Luna. I won't fight it any more. I won't try to run away now."

"We still need to find your old memories. Of course, there's also the matter of your magic."

Hermione picked up another photo and stated, "This one is graduation day, you, me and Ginny. What do you think?"

Luna peered at the picture of three women lined up, laughing, arms wrapped across each other's shoulders. "What's that on my robes?"

"That's the medal for graduating top of our class. You barely beat me and Malfoy. Only 5 points between us. Malfoy was only 3 points behind me."

"The castle looks bigger than I remember; more walls; more landscape. I remember going to Hogwarts after those buildings fell; years after. I've fought these memories since the fire. Now I have to believe them as the future, but they feel like my past. My past and your past, but you don't remember them"

Hermione pursed her lips. "It can be confusing I guess. Constantly trying to bring back your real memories isn't making it any easier, but I want the old Luna back."

Turning her eyes back to the picture, Luna commented, "I'm not sure the old Luna can come back even if the old memories come back." Her look softened, "We look so happy there. Who took the picture?"

"Ron did; he's the reason we're laughing. He and Harry got off their training to be at the ceremony."

"Ron. He was always funny." Luna smiled "The Ron I can look at, the one in my memories, he loved you. The Ron here loves you more, you know. I hear it when he talks to you."

"Yes, and I love him."

"But you are moving slowly with him because you love me the same way."

Looking down at her lap, Hermione whispered, "Yes."

"I finally sorted it out. Thinking back, I should have understood sooner."

A tear fell onto Hermione's hand. "I was hoping that when your memory is back, maybe…."

"You have Ron now and you do love him."

Hermione moved off the bed to the chair in front on Luna. Grabbing the blonde's hands, speaking quickly, anxiety clearly showing in her voice, she cried, "Luna, I love you! We were so good together. I was falling behind before you came to me. The nightmares….and when B-b-uh…She! She showed up, hurting me. You slept with me…helped with the dreams….and we learned to protect ourselves and keep her away. I use those spells to keep you safe now. We worked together to make them, learned from each other."

Hermione blushed and in hushed tones, "You taught me other things, to be with a woman, to be more open." The memory brought a small smile, "Ron has benefited from that, a bit."

Luna smiled slightly, "Hermione…."

"Please Luna, you have to get your memory back. I've been feeling a tickling on the personal wards. She's broken the notice-me-not spell you built. We've been found! I think I saw her out by the Ministry on Tuesday. I looked again, but she wasn't there. You see? Come back to me. Help me."

"Shouldn't you get Harry or some others to help?"

The brunette increased the grip on Luna's hands, tears on her cheeks. "I can't! She said only you could help….only 'loony' people. This is some kind of challenge for her. Me versus her…promised that she'd pay me back for beating her before. If you hadn't helped me, I would have gone crazy or died. We tried trapping her, called in Aurors; but she knew! Somehow she knew. Then she killed those muggles on that bridge. Said she'd do it again if we brought in anyone else. I need you…to help me and…to love me."

Luna sighed, "Oh Hermione, I'm sorry but I don't remember us. I do love you but not that way. Not now. I can't feel that way now."

In a strange turnabout, the blonde woman became the comforter, holding Hermione as the dark-haired witch, breathing slowly, stared at the wall. Soothing words uttered by the blond along with hands stroking her locks caused the bushy-haired witch to relax. Emboldened by the closeness and her confession, Hermione brought her head up, moving to capture the other woman's lips with her own. Quickly, Luna turned away to discourage her. "I'm sorry, I can't."

Hermione stood up. "No. I apologize. I was too forward." She looked around nervously wringing her hands. "Luna. I-I think I should go now. I'll be back next week." She hurriedly gathered her things into her bag. "The healers can get me if you need something sooner. Did you want to walk me out of the ward?"

Luna gave her small smile. "No, I don't think I should. I've just learned a lot today and want to think about it. Good night, Hermione."

"Goodnight." Hermione waved and walked out the door. She waited until a number of doorways down the corridor before wiping her hand down her face and exclaiming, "Oh, gods. Why did I do that?"

She walked slowly to the lifts. As she turned the corner off the patient area, she felt it, the telltale tingling against her personal wards. She jerked her head up quickly looking around but didn't see anything unusual. This time it felt different; stronger. That witch was close to breaking in. Hermione quickened her pace and entered a lift, pressing the button for the ground floor.

The lift lurched into motion. She had just settled into her thoughts for the ride down, when she felt it. The sudden puff of air pushed her hair forward telling her that someone had silently apparated behind her. It was the same as before. She heard the older witch breathing and rustling her robes. A quick noise and the light buzzing of the Muffliato charm tickled Hermione's ears. Hard fingers caressed the back of her neck and she stiffened to control her shaking.

"Hee-hee-hee! Hello, filth. Did you miss me? Don't! Hands off the wand. You can't win this."

Hermione stopped moving as she felt her wand being removed from her pocket. She stared straight forward as the black haired witch reached around and stopped the lift. Wild black and grey hair along with pale neck and jawline appeared at the edge of her vision then quickly backed out of it. A fingernail scraped along her shoulder then up to her ear.

"Haven't been this close since that classroom at Hogwarts. More than a year and a half. I'm rather excited to touch your dirty skin again. Call it a predilection, a quirk perhaps. Haven't found my horcrux yet, have you? Your shaking knees tell all; it's still hidden. Three clues not enough? Care for another? You know what it costs."

The brunette tensed, trying to control the outside signs of her fear. "Another clue? Yes please."

"Soon enough. After the payment. Right now, I'd like to know what you think you're doing with that grubby body of yours. Corrupt any good purebloods, recently? The blood traitor perhaps? Don't you shake your head! I already know!"

A hand runs down her side, attaching viselike to her hip. Two fingers move under her chin and up to her lips.

"Used a little wiggle to trick him, did you? Tried to be saucy. Brought him under your spell so he could stand the stench; so he could overlook your ugly mug. Then you used this huge mouth on him, spreading your contamination on his lips and knob. Do you really think he'd find a poorly endowed slag like you attractive?!"

Hermione tried to control the falling tears as the hand moved from the hip to the inside of her thigh.

"Didn't spread these for him though, did you. You saved that to infect the crazy bitch. You sullied her with your unnatural ways. Dyke! It's a sure bet that if I had to lap at that manky minge of yours, I'd go crazy too. Ah-ha-ha-ha! Ooo, I just made an alliteration. Manky minge. Miserable mudblood's manky minge. Hee-He He-He He!"

The hands left her. A forearm rests on her shoulder, something cold touches her neck. Warm breath punctuates the words whispered in her ear.

"You **know** what this is mudblood. A friend of yours from the past. I rescued it. It's much better than the dinner knives at Hogwarts…sharper…smoother. Time for the show. Get started. The same as last time."

Hermione pulled off her robes. Shakily, she lifted her blouse exposing 4 parallel scars along her ribcage. The older witch moved to the younger woman's side, just out of her view but in a good position to see the scars.

"That's it. Hold it up. I want to watch this"

Taking the knife, Hermione moved the blade to the topmost scar and began to cut. Blood flowed down to her stomach as she cried out with rapid breaths.

"Deeper! I've been waiting a long time, filth. I want two now. Slower this time."

With the first cut spreading open and bleeding freely, the young witch's trembling hand moved to the next scar. The silver knife was slipping in her slick fingers as she pressed inward puncturing the skin, More blood poured forth, the pain taking over her mind, as she heard someone loudly sobbing nearby. The top of her jeans, six inches below, were soaking in the red fluid.

When the second cut ran the length of the scar, skeletal fingers entered the top wound. They moved roughly about, adding to her pain. She screamed again and tears flowed down her face. The bloodied fingers moved up to Hermione's mouth.

The wild haired witch pressed her. "Lick it off, taste your own filth! That's right. Surprising how obedient you can be. I thought you had fight! One more cut now, if you want the clue."

"No. I don't think I can do it." Hermione breathed out. She had reached her limit.

Raging, the black haired woman reached around and snatched the knife back. "Weakling! I leave you for a bit and you get out of shape. A pureblood would persevere." Hermione's arm was yanked to the side and a bottle slapped into it. "Dittany. You better have your own next time! Clean yourself up. No one can know. If I find out you told, I kill the defenseless crazy one."

The Muffliato buzzing stopped and the vine wood wand clattered on the floor. Air whistled in at the doors to fill the vacuum where the black-clad witch had been standing an instant before. Hermione twisted down to get the wand, wincing as she pulled back up. Blood and salty tears dripped onto the floor. She looked down at herself, disgusted with her appearance, and pulled the dropper from the dittany bottle. Slowly she closed the wounds, watching the steam rise from them as the scars returned to the look they'd had since healing from the torture during the war. No one would notice.

Wand in hand, she cleaned the blood from her clothes, barely controlling her shaking arm. Satisfied that it would be good enough, the brown haired witch set the lift moving again. Putting on her robes was more difficult than she expected, as her body shook cruelly. On ground level, the doors opened and she quickly walked to the Floo powder. Placing the two Knuts in the cash bowl, she grabbed a handful of powder and stepped into the fireplace.

Going home, letting her parents see her, was not an option. She knew where she had to be.

It took massive determination to control the shaking that she now recognized as sobs that she hadn't acknowledged yet. Finally, she calmed enough to drop the powder and state clearly. "Number 12 Grimmauld Place." She allowed the tears to take over.

With a rushing of green flames, she was gone.


	3. I can dance and play the part

**3\. I can dance and play the part.**

It didn't completely become its present form at this location. Most of that happened underground in the Lake District when it was part of the massive batholith forming the base of that entire area. Humans didn't know that until 1994 when a young post graduate geology student from the University of Leeds had stopped in the area while kayaking the River Wye. She stretched her legs walking an old path south, away from the shore, eventually finding an open clearing. The glint of sunlight on water moved her further to a stream and this massive incongruity. Her excitement led to samples and investigations by the geology department.

The resulting paper declared that the granite's tiny zircon crystals contained Uranium inclusions whose atoms had been changing to Thorium, to Radium, to Radon, to Polonium, and finally to Lead through a series of alpha and beta decays. The ratio of Uranium to Lead showed that decay had been going on for 425 million years, plus or minus 600 thousand, since the stone had solidified. The chemistry of the granite closely matched that of an outcrop near Eskdale Green in the county of Cumbria, home of the highest mountain, deepest lake and biggest liar in England. 950 thousand years ago a glacier approached pushing millions of tons of earth before it. The enormous pressure broke this 230 ton piece off that outcrop and carried it southward. Slowly tumbling for hundreds of thousands of years it came to rest at the southernmost reach of the glaciers, remaining after the ice retreated. It sat, buried iceberg-like in the earth while the river formed its meandering track across the scraped out plain and the forest grew around it. The boulder bore mute witness to the activities of man as the border of England and Wales was established nearby and Hillersland was built one mile to the east. It had seen human tragedy. One such being the rape and murder of Anne Gavell of Monmouth in the summer of 1485 while her husband fought and died for Richard the Third. Her body bloated in the sun as her baby boy succumbed to dehydration in the cradle at their isolated farm. A sycamore now grows where she was tossed aside 3 yards from the stone. Happier things had also transpired nearby like the 1948 building of Bracelands Campsite a half mile to the southeast, the beginning of the end of the Second Wizarding War, and, of course, the long ago establishment of this protected area named the Forest of Dean.

In the dim predawn, the same unmoving solidity that stood witness to all these events greeted the human who popped into existence turning to face the west side of the rock. His right hand shakily moved a wand in a particular pattern as he trudged around the outcrop. Reaching the starting point the red-headed man fell to his knees and stared at the rock. Stressed from this night's events, Ron sat pondering the cause of his frustration. He could feel the turmoil inside him which ensured that the wards would be useful soon.

He and Harry had been playing chess, Harry would say 'losing chess', when the unexpected sound of the Floo erupted in the next room. Wands out, they peeked into the back room to see a sobbing Hermione step from the firebox. Ron's first instinct had him hurrying over to gather her up into his arms. He noticed the blood around her mouth but it didn't look serious, so he simply held her close and moved to the sofa. She latched her arms around his chest and her tears soaked his shoulder as she trembled in his grasp. Harry, obviously concerned, stood near the fireplace awkwardly watching them. The minutes ticked by as Ron felt her calming down while he rubbed her back and told her how much he was there for her. Eventually, she broke her hold on him and pushed herself upright.

"I'm sorry…"

"Nothing to be sorry about, we're always here to help." said Harry.

"What happened? Where'd the blood come from?"

"I got a nosebleed, Ron." Hermione lied, while touching her mouth. "Luna said a lot of upsetting things and basically threw me out. I tried to hold her but she hit my nose when she pushed off to get away." She took out her wand and cleaned the blood from her face.

Harry pursed his lips. "She's never been violent before. You looked frightened. Is she a danger to you? One of us can stay with you for the whole visit next time."

"That's not necessary. I'm sure it was just an accident. I need the time alone with her. She's usually more open when you're not there."

"What did the healers say about it?"

"I didn't tell them."

"What?! They don't know there's a patient who's been violent?" Harry reached for the bowl of Floo powder. Turning back, he glared at her. "This isn't like you, Hermione…very irresponsible. I'm going over there."

"No!" Hermione jumped up and grabbed his shoulder to stop him. "She didn't mean to and apologized right after. Please don't."

"I told you she's worse but you wouldn't listen. Something has to be done."

The strength of his declaration caused Hermione to loosen her grip and step back. She replied quickly. "You're not a healer. I said she's not violent. You can't just decide how she should be treated."

"You're not a healer either, Hermione. I plan on letting those healers decide by giving them **all** the information."

"They'll lock her up. She doesn't deserve it."

Ron had been watching their exchange with some confusion. This was out of character for the witch. He could see she wasn't telling everything, but Harry was being an arse about it. Standing, he remarked, "Calm down Harry. What's really going on here?"

"Ask your girlfriend. I'm still waiting for something that makes sense."

"Hermione, why doesn't Luna need to be locked up? She hit you. You came here scared and crying. If she is bad enough to scare you…."

She looked down at the rug. "She's not. I wasn't frightened by her."

"I know what you look like when you're frightened. What scared you?"

"It wasn't her." She spun toward the fireplace. "Please Harry, don't go there."

Harry looked at the ceiling, pushing a large breath out his nose. Turning an emotionless face toward her he stated, "What aren't you telling us?"

Ron watched her study Harry's face for some moments before she responded. "I think her memories are of the future. She remembered a disaster that killed thousands of people but the date she gave is over a year from now. The realization of it and the insulting things she said upset me. I'm feeling a lot better now."

Harry turned away from her toward Ron and raised one eyebrow. "I see." He looked back and smiled. "Looks like it's all settled for tonight, then." He threw the handful of powder into the firebox, watching the flame shift to green. After 5 seconds, when no destination was given, the fire settled to normal.

"Kind of a waste, don't ya think, mate?"

"Why the fuck should you care? It's my bloody money. I'm going to bed. 'Nite all." Throwing his arm up dismissively, Harry strode toward the stairs leaving a stunned Ron and uncomfortable looking Hermione staring at his back in the doorway.

A few seconds later the redhead quickly stomped up the stairs. "Harry, what's your problem? I didn't do anything but make a joke."

"Leave it, Ron!"

Harry reached his bedroom with Ron close on his heels.

"No, I won't! You're being a real tosser to Hermione."

As soon as he entered the room, Harry was facing him with his finger to his lips. The dark haired wizard slammed the door and, waving his wand over it, set an imperturbable charm.

"Look Ron; she's lying about what's wrong."

"I know that! She's never been good at lying to us, especially me. Do you want…"

"Do nothing. She knows we don't believe her. Leave it at that, don't push. Whatever this is, it's big. Listen, Wednesday I caught Robards talking to McGonagall. They mentioned Hermione's name connected to a secret investigation last year at Hogwarts. He stopped talking as soon as he saw me. I went to McGonagall but she wouldn't tell me anything."

Ron's eyes widened. "She was having a lot of problems between Samhain and the Christmas break. Her Mum told me Minerva wrote about her poor essays and visits to the infirmary. But Hermione never failed anything and at Christmas she seemed pretty normal. Do you think the investigation is tied to that? "

Harry turned toward the door. "Don't know, but they were talking like it was still open; said "she" was scared out of her wits and Hermione's scared tonight. Just keep helping her and maybe she'll say something. Now, I'm taking down the charm in case she's coming up here. Yell at me about how I treated her."

A quick wand swish later and Ron swiftly passed through the doorway shouting back at Harry.

"Stop being a daft bell end and back off of her! Robards yelling at you doesn't mean you can take it out on us. I **told** you your report was missing a witness testimony. Not my fault your head's too big to take in good advice. "

"Sod off, wanker!" voiced Harry as the door slammed shut.

Ron headed down the stairs to a sullen Hermione. He flashed a grin.

"Guess it's just you and me. Want something to eat?"

Her eyes narrowed a bit as she huffed, "You're not very good, you know. What is Harry trying to do?"

"Come on Hermione; we all know you're holding back. Why don't we just leave it at that? We can go over your visit with Luna."

"All right. I could use a little something. Maybe ask Kreacher if he would make us something light?"

"Sure, he'll like that. Kreacher!"

With a small pop, the old elf was bowing in front of them.

"How may Kreacher serve the young master and his lady?"

Hermione looked down at her hands as Ron responded. "Would you mind cooking up a batch of fish and chips and a couple of butter beers?"

"Kreacher would be proud to feed the hero who destroyed master Regulus' locket. Of course, Miss Hermione will also bring honor to Kreacher by dining here."

"Thank you, Kreacher. Could you lighten up on the hero stuff, though?"

"Ron, let's talk in the kitchen."

The crack of apparition filled the hallway as the two humans started down the staircase to the basement.

"So, what's this about Luna seeing the future?"

"You know she can't remember many things we know she's been through, right? Well, the memories she does have seemed to be of future events."

"How do you know; I mean we haven't seen it yet."

"She actually gave a date."

He turned back to her as he entered the kitchen. "Sure, but she could have imag…OW!" Stepping sideways from the doorframe, he rubbed his elbow with a grimace. Hermione reached out touching his arm but looked to be suppressing a smile at his clumsiness. He noted that she had calmed just by their talking. He hoped it was him. Ron looked down at her hand and quickly turned to walk over to the table and pull out a chair. She smiled at him as she sat and he pushed the chair in. Moving to his seat, he could feel his ears reddening. He sat looking away from her, thinking that these moments of connection, giving him hope, were hard to handle. The smell of frying fish triggered his stomach rumbling. He glanced up at Kreacher, who was humming tunelessly at the huge cast iron cooktop.

Hermione's voice startled him.

"I don't think this is simple imagination on her part. She was too upset by it, almost like it was a burned into her memory. A significant event, Ron."

"What did she tell you?"

"Remember, after we graduated, Ginny, Luna and I went to New York City. You've seen the pictures." He nodded while Hermione continued. "She saw the picture from the Empire State building and said that two buildings in the background had been destroyed when she was ten years old."

"Back in 1990?"

"That's just it, she said she was ten in 2001."

"Sure, that's a year from now. Again, I have to say, that could be part of her crazy."

"I know, I know, but she didn't act like she normally does. She thought this year was 2010 and was really surprised that it was June of 2000."

"She always 'knows' she is right, until we say she is wrong. You've seen it yourself. Hermione, you're the one who thinks Divination is rubbish."

"Not so much now, after Harry's prophecy. This…It feels different, like it **is** right. I asked her to see if she could remember something we could confirm before the disaster happens. If she comes up with something we can verify now, maybe it will help solve her problem."

Two plates clattered in front of them followed by the fsst-fsst of the bottles opening. Despite his hunger, Ron remained focused on the woman next to him. Only her concentration on the dinner moved him to reach for his plate. He forced himself to eat slowly as he watched her delicately partake of her meal. He knew things about her that she'd thought she was keeping hidden. Despite this, he also knew he was unable to let her go. As Hermione finished, and against all reason, he reached over to her shoulder sliding to behind her neck and felt the tense knots there. He squeezed her shoulder as he pulled away. She looked over and held his gaze a moment before looking at her plate. Another connection, fanning the embers of a hope he knew he didn't deserve. Not after the news tonight.

He hadn't gone back to Hogwart's with her, even after she'd asked. He had left her again. Left her to whatever it was that frightened her so much. He'd left her and someone else stood by her. He didn't deserve, but he wanted…and loved.

This conflict was hidden when she looked at him again as he smiled crookedly.

"That was a good meal Kreacher, thank you." He turned to Hermione. "What say you to putting a little time in puzzling out what Luna did to activate the rune? I mean, since you're here'n all."

"We can….maybe for a couple of hours. It's already half seven."

She hopped down from the chair and crossed to the stairs. He followed, longingly watching her hair bounce as she climbed up. He remembered his hands in those curls so much the summer before her last year at Hogwarts…and so little now. He smiled at the memory. Hermione turned to him as she entered the parlor, catching his look. He saw confusion, then something else cross her features before she spun away to enter their makeshift lab.

"I found a charm that might work better on the burned pages that haven't crumbled to dust. Maybe we can get more writing to show up. Actually, it was George; he remembered trying to bring back their burned mattress when they were living here. Fred apparently got this from an old book in the Black library. It's really a potion activated by a charm"

Pulling out the research notes, she replied absently, "Well, the Reparo charms haven't helped much. Should we make the potion first?"

"I think so, and I'm sure I could use the help."

They worked companionably, commenting occasionally as she assisted Ron with the potion. The sketchy instructions were slowly turned into a saffron yellow mixture from which he was skimming the floating solids. He loaded the potion into a dropper bottle and pulled out some charred parchments. He started on the papers, as she returned to her notes and the research data.

After some time, Ron suddenly voiced an "Oh Yeah!" and bounded up to stand with his arms raised. Hermione looked up from her notes. "Hermione, I did it! I can read words. The page is not complete but I got loads more words. It took a lot of tries to control the power. I kept blasting the burnt parts into ash."

"What part did you repair?"

"Just some pages that I wrote on and burned. I wanted to practice before working on her notes"

"You didn't risk her notes?"

He sighed, "For Merlin's sake, I'm not that reckless. I did get the best marks on strategic planning out of anyone in the past 40 years….better than Harry."

"Ron, I didn't mean it that way. Really."

Already set for an argument, he worked to deflate his hurt ego.

"Hermione, I think we should just pack it in for tonight. We've had two breakthroughs, one with Luna and one here. You can't stay too late or your parents will worry."

She reached into her bag and pulled out the cell phone, looked at it, frowned, and put it away. "It's not working; too much magical interference. I'll send my patronus."

"You could just apparate."

"No, I'm telling them I'll stay here tonight. I'll be more comfortable here, I think. There's pajama bottoms and one of your old shirts with my clothes in the bedroom upstairs."

With the shining otter streaking across London, they climbed the steps to the bedrooms. Hermione accioed her sleep clothes and entered the bathroom. She slept in this house half the time so she had a stock of her essentials in the linen cabinet. Finishing quickly she waved a pajama-clad Ron into the lavatory. "Just need to brush. Goodnight." he said, reaching out to her shoulder. She stopped at his touch, returned his smile, then moved on. Disappointed, he brushed his teeth walked out and crossed over to his room. He opened the door while sniffing the towel, then threw it to the hamper. As he reached down to pull the pajamas from bunching up at his crotch, he looked over to his bed and saw Hermione standing there, completely nude.

Ron's mouth dropped open. He had never seen her like this. She looked uncertain with her left foot turned slightly inward, hands together, fingers intertwined, and her bottom lip held firmly in her teeth. Sure, they had touched and even taken each other to orgasm, but it was always in a dark room with most of her clothes on. He got maybe a peek here or there. This was on a whole new level and he couldn't help but stare and realize something. Perfect breasts are not the size of Madam Rosemerta's. No, they are much smaller with light reddish brown nipples. Hers sit perkily above the 4 pink scars over her ribs. Blushing cheeks, small waist, rounded hips, skinny legs; yep, he was reacting to the view. He closed his mouth to keep from drooling.

"Ron?" He snapped his gaze to her eyes; she looked away. "I-I, um…thought, maybe, we could…we could…you know…make love?"

Ron was doubly startled. From what he knew, this would be the first time for both of them. They hadn't even been snogging lately. Why now? Was it what happened at St. Mungo's?

"Hermione, I…er…I don't think we should…um…well…"

"oh."

Suddenly her eyes widened as she looked at him, and a realization struck her. "Oh! You don't want…Oh Merlin! She's right….I'm not…Oh!"

Her disjointed talk was punctuated with her frantically grabbing the blanket and wrapping it around her as she wiped her eyes. Ron quickly crossed the room reaching for her. "Hermione, it's not that I don't want to." She tried to push him away, but he held on. "Hell, I saw you there and I got lost in thinking how beautiful you are." She stopped resisting him. "I just don't want our first time to be for some sort of comfort, or from you feeling pressured. I want it to happen because it's the next step for us."

He sighed. "And…I don't think you're sure…about me….or who you want." He heard the sharp intake of her breath. "Until this works out, however it works out, you have to know I'll always be here for you, even if we only stay as friends. Whatever you need, Hermione."

She wrapped her arm around him, the other holding up the blanket. He squeezed her then let her go in favor of collecting her neatly folded pajamas from the dresser.

Putting on a grin, he said, "I can help you put these back on." He didn't have a problem with getting a closer look. She smiled a bit but declined his offer and extended her hand for the clothes. "Look away, please." He turned his back to her until she finished dressing. She touched his arm and he rotated around to grab her hand. He pulled it up for a kiss on the fingertips but she drew it away before he connected. Her breathing was uneven and her eyes bright with unshed tears. He wanted to just hold her, to take back the hurt, to fix it.

"Good night, Ron." She walked past him and out of the room. All he could do was watch her go.

He crawled into his bed. He was tired but sleep eluded him as he considered and wondered and 'what-if'd' each step of today and the past three years; all the way back to Lavender. His eyes drifted shut.

His eyes opened.

Something…wrong… woke him. There it was…again? A cry….Hermione!

Instantly he was up and moving, wand in hand. He entered the hall in time to see Harry's door opening. He held up his hand to wave Harry back inside. Crossing to her room, he lit a low level Lumos and slowly pushed the door open. She was lying on her side facing away from the door, muscles rigid except her right arm moving across her stomach. She was sobbing and crying out like someone was punching her in the gut.

He touched her shoulder. She jolted and yelled, "No! Please!...no more!". Her hand jerked across her stomach near the scars, back and forth, again and again. Ron grabbed the hand and whispered her name to her. She stopped moving that arm. Her voice lowered to murmur "I can't…I can't" several times over. Then she relaxed a bit, scooting her back toward him. He slipped into the bed to hold her. Hermione snuggled into him, calm. She sighed, "Luna-love." Ron stiffened for an instant, breathed out deeply, gave her a quick squeeze, then relaxed to just hold her, and wait.

Once she had been breathing evenly for about half an hour, Ron slowly extricated himself from her grip and her bed. He stood looking down at the woman he loved, until the feelings built up enough that he knew he had to leave. He slowly turned, walked out the door, down the stairs, and to the front steps. He apparated to the Forest of Dean.

So, here he was, staring at this rock, this monument to his fear, his betrayal and his stupidity. He again realized that this relationship he wants so desperately is being destroyed by his own stupid hands.

Stupid decisions, stupid actions, stupid words, stupid tears running down his stupid freckled face.

Unable to hold it in, Ron jumped up and roared out a Reducto at the rock. Then he threw out another, and another. Again and again the spells bounce off the granite face, filling the air with dust and his ears with high-pitched ringing. Still, it wasn't enough. He shoved the wand into his pocket, whirled around and punched the stone. The momentary pain from the glancing blow merely fueled his fury and disappeared behind his unfair thoughts. Stupid; another punch; he feels something break. Stupid; again bone grinding against bone. Stupid; another break; he heard the snap but no pain. Stupid-stupid-stupid-stupid. Finally, he stopped. His deep breathing was the only sound as he detachedly studied the damage. The third finger was bent sideways at the second knuckle, and the top of his hand was deformed indicating that at least two bones were broken above his digits. The knuckles were a soaked ragged mess, with blood still flowing out. He knew the pain would come soon, after the adrenalin dissipated. So, he better go to a healer. It was almost daybreak, time for work soon. Time to smile and wave and get back to the normal act. He apparated to the house of a witch who had healed him before.


	4. They say they can smell your intentions

**4\. They Say They Can Smell Your Intentions**

The blond man crouched behind clumps of dune grass, his eyes glued to the tiny beach house. He still felt the sand in his armpits and groin that had ground rashes into his skin as he crawled to this observation point. It clung to his skin in most places under his clothes. The irritation didn't show in his face or cause him to shift in discomfort. Sweat built above his left eyebrow finally released a large drop. It slid around the edge and took a quick right turn into his eye. He blinked rapidly without moving his head, clearing his vision. Looking back to the cabin he caught some movement in his peripheral.

' _Bloody Skalwares scratching at the sand fleas. Granger had more self-control under the Cruciatus than he has with his own flatulence. He's still here and I can't fathom why. That plonker better not bollocks this one up. July at the seashore; insects, hot, with annoying bloody sand. There's Tinsworthy finally. We're all in place. What's taking Bannon so long with the wards?'_

He resisted reaching into his pocket for the coin to satisfy the urge to send a status request to the designated curse breaker. Bannon had taken much longer than expected to set up the anti-apparition wards at the 50-yard mark around the house. They could apparate within it but not through it. Draco thought she would foul up, but he'd stick with the strategy until it had to change. Bannon had kept up the count, sending a number every 5 minutes. She was still in place, not in distress.

Protean charmed coins, a Granger invention even the Weasel didn't use during his training. The instructors liked the addition. Still, he wouldn't match Weasley's score in strategy. Draco worked his arse off to even get this close, while it came naturally to that ginger git. Hard work and self-discipline got him to the top of his class, better than Potter did; not as good as Weasley. Figures, the gormless twit would beat him. However, Malfoy was blessed with a class of less than stellar law enforcement candidates. Now he would be an Auror, on Potter's team, and, barring a disaster, he could put his scheme into play. Draco looked at the photograph pulled from the inside pocket of his uniform. It was a habit when he was alone, built from a great deal of time spent alone. The sheer number of times he looked at it should have worn it down to a rag. Impermeable charms kept it pristine. If it weren't for the wind, the picture could be mistaken for a muggle snapshot. This was his reason for being here, nothing else, really.

His father had recommended serving with the Aurors, for the family, for the name. The Aurors were picked from the general group of candidates trained for law enforcement. Lucius had said it was a risk, surely, but worth it. Spend a little time in the field, then as an investigator, then out. Be a bit of a hero. No subterfuge, no hanging on coattails, just a real honest-to-Merlin hero. Hard work, some risk, courage. Become the Auror whose coattails others want to ride. Bring the Malfoy name back to its former glory. His father sacrificed himself for the family. So, Draco had agreed, as expected, but that career path didn't fit in his plans. No, this was personal. It required personal effort and the extended personal risk. He would see it out to its bitter end.

Draco's reverie was interrupted by the heat of the coin on his thigh, before the five-minute mark. He pulled the coin and stuffed the photograph. Bannon had the anti-apparition wards down but the code indicated that an alarm was tripped. Cursing her ignorance, Draco sent the backup signal to the team…apparate into the cabin, everyone in the back bedroom, wands out. He counted down the 5 seconds, did a quick turn and opened his eyes to his 'favorite' teammate.

"Point your wand at something besides me." he whispered

Skalwares grinned and wiggled his eyebrows "Piss off, death eater." he breathed, as he turned toward the door.

Tinsworthy signaled that there were seven humans in three rooms. Then Finchley indicated that there was a reaction to the Homenum Revelio resulting in quick movement in the main room and kitchen but not the second bedroom. Quickly, Draco ordered Skalwares and Finchley to the main room north side. They apparated immediately and Tinsworthy started counting. Draco went three heartbeats later to the south side.

Draco appeared in the room to see spells from a blond woman and ginger man breaking the shields of his team members. The woman flashed a shield between them and Draco. Skalwares took advantage and bound her ankles while levitating the bindings. Finchley took a hit from the redhead that paralyzed his non-wand arm. He stupefied the woman and Skalwares broke the shield. Draco stupefied the man and turned to the kitchen. He spied the hostage with the "Dead" sign charmed on her forehead lying halfway off the sofa and hastily set a Protego in front of the door. The two culprits were rapidly trussed up, as they loudly complained about the tightness of the cords. He felt the heat of the coin on his thigh followed by a second heated signal meaning Tinsworthy had saved the two male hostages. Finchley apparated outside, then the kitchen door exploded into the room; Draco's Protego keeping the splinters away. There was no one in the kitchen. Following the plan, Skalwares apparated to 5 yards from Finchley's location. A several minute pause drifted by where Draco kept his wand pointed at the door, then a badger patronus entered the room with Finchley's voice.

"Two perpetrators down at rear doorway. Bannon is dead. One enemy unaccounted for. Apparition sound in dunes behind house."

As team leader, he sent his gazelle patronus to headquarters, reporting the completion of the mission along with the failures encountered. The score couldn't be great, what with two fatalities. At least they saved two hostages.

The two 'hostages' left the bedroom smiling and shaking their heads. Tinsworthy called out and Draco moved to that room. As he entered, he was grabbed and thrown against the clothes chest. One of the knobs poked into his ribs and a body pressed against his torso, hand at his throat. Spell-O-Tape was jammed across his mouth. The coin burned on his thigh again.

"Baby death eater thinks he's the best ever. Looks like we have to demonstrate what you really deserve."

Tinsworthy. That's a surprise. Then he heard the sound of apparition.

"Got him Kel? Told you he'd have to check on you if you yelled for him."

Finchley. Not as much of a surprise. Here we go again.

The pain showed up. A punch to the jaw. He dropped to the floor knocking the wind out of him.

Draco was manhandled onto his stomach and bindings placed on his wrists behind his back. The legs were bound from the thigh to upper calf.

This was followed by a kick to the ribs flipping him back over. Draco tried to draw breath but wasn't allowed as a knee fell on his stomach. Then they added the furniture parts, implements of torture. Draco stayed still, accepting the hurt; they wouldn't kill him, just rough him up a bit. The first ones had tried to get him removed from the program. He was lucky that the injuries then weren't bad enough.

"You won't graduate with this class, or ever if we can manage it. We won't use magic…can't trace it"

Another hit to the ribs; some cracked….not the first time.

"That's for my sister-in-law; raped and dead in the grave from one of you bastards!"

Heavy weight pressed on the ankle, then the snap. Broken bones were a part of the payment to get where he had to be. When he gets there, he won't worry about the cost. The end is the only thing that's important. Live for the long term; try not to die before you get there. He heard the sound of apparition.

"Finchley, what the bloody hell are you doing!?"

Skalwares. Another in the mix.

"Just doing what the Ministry wouldn't, Michael."

"Please, leave him alone, Kel."

"Put the wand away, Skalwares."

"No. I'm a law enforcement officer. The law is the law. He was found 'not guilty' by Ministry Legal. The law says he's a regular citizen. That's it. He's an officer too, bound by the oath, the same as us. You **will** let him go."

"Michael, we don't have much time before the assessment team gets here."

"That's right, Finchley. End this before I use traceable magic. You make the decision."

"Fuck you, Voldemort lover. You won't become an Auror."

Noises filtered through the pain. People were leaving the room and a hand on his face pulled off the tape. He felt the release of his legs and wrists. The shine of a patronus. Apparition sounds, so quick Draco wondered if he'd passed out. ….a voice.

"Candidate Malfoy, do you know where you are injured?"

"Ribs, face, ankle…maybe more"

"We'll get you some help."

"Give him some pain potion and leave us."

"Senior Instructor Steiger! He needs medical attention."

"Is it life threatening? No? Then get your arse out!"

"Yes sir."

A soothing potion is poured down his throat. He picked up the sound of people moving out of the room. The time ticks away as the potion takes effect. It's like the person in the room knows exactly how long the formula takes to work. Experience? Probably.

"So, Malfoy, quite an exciting training session. Didn't work out as you thought."

"A plan is always flawless until the bullets start flying, sir."

"Muggle wisdom? Yes, quite…wouldn't have expected that if I didn't know what books you were reading."

"Guess I should have foreseen you'd know that, sir."

"Very strenuous exercise. Injuries are to be anticipated. The instructors filed their reports quickly. No serious injuries reported. What did they miss?"

"Obviously, my injuries, sir."

"Right. I expect you can detail how these were sustained?"

"That depends on what you are expecting to hear, sir."

"What I have always expected; the truth. Mr. Skalwares has reported that he found you in the room injured and sent the request for assistance. He also said he had further to report if **your** report confirms his suspicions"

"I was injured when the kitchen door exploded because I failed to execute the Protego after the skirmish in the main room, sir."

"Instructor Diehl, the main room hostage, did not report injuries. Your admission will lower your score in this exercise."

"Perhaps you should reprimand her for poor observation, sir."

"Cynthia! Come in here, please!"

A tall brunette woman enters the room.

"Candidate Malfoy has disputed your skills as an eyewitness."

"Indeed. Candidate Malfoy, your uniform is torn on the back left shoulder. You hold your wand in your left hand with your index finger in line with the axial. Your wand motion for the Stupefy has been modified from the standard taught at Hogwarts such that it eliminates the second upward before the push. You were not limping when you crossed the room 8 seconds after stupefying the male perpetrator. The Protego charm you used was extensive enough, due to your changing to a longer full arm sweep, to protect your teammate and myself such that I was not required to provide a charm. You were not limping when the patronus arrived as you had to take two steps to turn and face it. You were not limping nor had noticeable injuries when you walked to the hostage room."

"So, Mr. Malfoy, do you still doubt her?"

"I do not, sir. If I did not sustain the injuries from the explosion, then my memory is at fault. I amend my statement to say I do not remember how I got them, sir."

"Thank you, Instructor Diehl. You may go."

"Sir." She quickly left the room.

"Draco, I am aware that your classmates are opposed to your participation in this program. You have sustained injuries during this training…excessive injuries. You haven't registered complaints. You won't report your teammates for this?"

"How will that help you?...or me, sir?"

"I have to deal with those who are not willing to abide by the oath."

"They would if I were not here, sir."

"If they do not follow the oath here, they will not when they encounter former death eaters after graduation."

"I cannot help you. You understand that I **must** become an Auror. That won't happen if I fail to maintain a peace, of sorts, with my classmates. I am sorry, but you must police your law enforcement candidates without me, sir."

"Your family name. Certainly, I understand. Must it be at the expense of the integrity of our officers?"

"I am not responsible for the integrity of law enforcement….only my own integrity, of which you can find no fault, sir."

"Indeed, you have displayed your integrity, on many occasions, except when it comes to your own health. In fact, you have gone well beyond the expected. Few have graduated with such high marks coupled with apparently faultless behavior."

"Thank you, Senior Instructor Steiger. It is my intent to be an Auror of which the Ministry can be proud, sir."

"Your choice of field teams was unexpected. We could not put forth a valid objection despite your previous issues with Potter and Weasley. The resignation of Auror Nesbit was rather convenient."

Ignoring the implied accusation, Draco rebutted, "Your preferential placement of Auror Potter despite Auror Weasley's superior class standing forces you to follow the rules exactly for this class of LE candidates. I consider myself fortunate that you are bound by your own statutes, sir."

"Don't get arrogant with me Malfoy! Besides, they ended up on the same team despite that. No harm, no foul. So you don't intend to press charges against Candidates Finchley and Tinsworthy?"

"No. I do not, sir."

"Then, I guess I will have to rely on the charmed recording devices we had in all the rooms. Don't expect Finchley or Tinsworthy to be chosen as Aurors, or remain in law enforcement at all. Healer!"

Senior Instructor Steiger leaves the room to be replaced with a healer along with examination lead trainer Sokorov. The healer begins the bone mending process.

"I have your marks and criticisms for the exercise, Candidate Malfoy. Are you prepared to receive them?"

"Yes sir."

"Your curse breaker was unsuccessful in detecting an alarm ward that has been taught since section two. She was graded as a failure for this event. Your inability to identify that she had a previous poor examination grade in security charms, lowered your personal score by five points. The team's score was lowered by ten points."

"I alone made the decision to test her capabilities despite prot..Uh! Bugger me; that hurts! Er…protests from other team members. I knew she had the weaknesses you mentioned. Candidate Finchley was assigned to teach her about those charms."

"Did he?"

"I don't know. I trusted him to complete the task."

"Your personal score is lowered by ten points then. Trust but verify. The team score will not be changed. Results are what counts. A hostage died, Candidate Malfoy. Your poor judgement is the direct cause of that. Candidate Tinsworthy or Skalwares would have been the better curse breaker."

"I stand by my choice. Tinsworthy is cooler in an unforeseen situation, in which we did find ourselves. Skalwares is faster and has better instincts for close-in fighting; the main room confrontation needed him."

"Yes…your choice…obviously. The fact is you were detected before apparition into the closed environment. However, you saved two thirds of the hostages and you sent back-up outside upon initial confrontation resulting in arresting all but one of the perpetrators. That is remarkable considering the complete failure of your curse breaker. Your planning and cool head saved this exercise from the thorough and utter catastrophe that it should have been. That was on par with what Auror Weasley has done in a similar situation."

Draco resisted rolling his eyes.

' _Oh for the love of Helga Hufflepuffs floppy funbags. Is any candidate in the next bloody century ever going to do well in an exercise without being compared to the bleeding idiot-savant of the MLE Academy?'_

"I appreciate the complement, sir. Then I didn't fail the exercise?"

"On the contrary, you only lose the ten points for your choice of curse breaker."

"Thank you, sir."

"You are welcome. A detailed timeline report will be available by tomorrow morning. Your team gets the rest of the afternoon off. Get well and rest up. You have another raid in three days, maybe sooner. We haven't run a quick response exercise for your class yet."

Instructor Sokorov turned and left the room. Draco would have responded, but was busy resisting the urge to slap the piss out of the healer working on his ankle.

Adjustments to his training time are required. He would have to study and train more with Michael Skalwares, help him improve and graduate; probably not as an Auror though. Pay back, always…never owe anyone. Hopefully, his own extra studying can be mixed in with the tutoring; the pace is already brutal. He put no trust in getting Tinsworthy and Finchley out of the class or the program. So, they must be treated no differently than any other candidate.

No. There would be no revenge. Nothing can get in the way of his plans.


	5. Hey, where did we go

**5\. Hey, where did we go; days when the rains came?**

Harry squinted into the breeze, looking eastward toward the white cylinder on Ynys Lawd. The lighthouse was a popular muggle landmark. The only way to get there was the footbridge from Holy Island. His view from his picnic blanket atop the South Stack cliffs was rather breathtaking and, he hoped, romantic. Saturday in July on the east coast of Wales brings out the tourists. He had tried to enter the stadium, which was sunk into the large area of rocky hills between Plas and South Stack Roads. He asked to watch Ginny practice but they were working on new plays so he was requested to leave the magically disguised sports complex. Harry didn't mind. He still planned to take her on a muggle picnic with a simple walk along the cliff trail to the lighthouse.

Perhaps he could persuade his girlfriend to stay with him in the wizard-run Britannia Inn. His eyes closed at the thought, bringing to his vision her long hair falling over her shoulder and atop her bare freckled chest. He shifted his musing to her mischief-filled eyes and soft smiling lips; lips that promised so much more than smiles. He sighed and opened his eyes to the blue Atlantic and a container ship on its way to the United States. Turning his head toward the path, he spied an athletic redheaded woman walking toward him. He stood, resisted the momentary urge to apparate directly to her, then raced down the path. She produced that smile from his imagination and squealed as he caught her waist and spun around. Their lips met transporting Harry to the sensations from his daydream. They intertwined their fingers.

Looking towards the picnic area she grinned at him.

"It is a nice view, but you know I see it every day; and from a broom, no less." she grinned at him.

"I do know that. But do you have picnic meals every day? Do you go on romantic walks with a handsome hero every day?"

"Handsome? You flatter yourself sir. Do you mean some other man; Neville perhaps? Of course, I could just start dating around."

"Cheeky witch!"

"Wizard school drop-out!"

Harry laughed and pulled her into a hug. Breathing in her scent, he was transported back to the Gryffindor common room in sixth year. Then his mind wandered to the feel of her curves against his body. He was completely enthralled with this woman.

They continued their walk to the blanket. He held her hand to help her sit and she swatted his thigh for his efforts. Chuckling, he sat next to her with a goofy grin. She broke down in a fit of giggles when he snatched her shoulders and rolled on top of her. She struggled to push him off, her strength threatening success. So he resorted to her Achilles heel; tickling.

"Get…oh!...hahaha…off me! H-Harry Pot..Potter…ah!...haha…fine…you win…oh you!" she yelled. He relented after a few moments, raising his fist in victory.

"You are so lucky I can't hex you here! As it is, the only reason you still have bits is because they are dead useful to me."

"Useful only if I deign to provide them."

"Oh, you will provide them. You cannot resist my charms."

"You're going to resort to charms? How desperate can…uh!"

He fell backwards from Ginny's punch to his chest.

"Desperate!? You did NOT say desperate!" she yelled, her eyes flashing.

"Would you like a roast beef sandwich and lemonade, dearest?" Harry replied meekly.

She giggled at his antics, replying, "I would be delighted, thank you."

He sat up quickly grinning while handing her a sandwich and salad filled plate along with a cold dripping glass. Ginny immediately drank and hummed her approval of the cool, tart beverage. The Quidditch practice had taken them well past lunch and Harry had held off for her. They were famished. The subsequent lack of conversation punctuated by occasional hums of satisfaction was a testament to their need. They topped the meal off with bowls of chocolate chip ice cream topped with hot fudge. Magic is wonderful!

The sumptuous meal resulted in the desire to lay about. Staring at the clouds, the couple talked about their last couple of weeks. Ginny's training and exhibition games dominated her time, but there were humorous anecdotes of practical jokes and just plain screw ups.

"Gracie Lakselspur, the reserve left wing beater, was working on the strength machine when the lunch break was called. She got up and walked to the meal hall." Ginny stopped due to her own giggling.

"What?" cried Harry, beginning to chuckle himself. "Was she pranked in the hall?"

"No…erm...well, not really. Anyway, it was so warm that day she didn't notice…I mean…um…she didn't notice something was wrong until she took her food to the table. By then she had walked the whole distance, in the open, to the meal hall, and she'd waited through the entire buffet line. The other girls were giggling all around her but would stop when Gracie looked at them."

By now Harry has some idea what happened and is barely holding it together.

"So," she went on "*ahem* she sat down and jumped right up when the cold metal chair met her bare bum. The weight machine's seat had been hexed so it dissolved any non-living thing that touched it. She'd had her naked arse hanging out for almost half an hour."

Harry burst out laughing while kicking his legs in the air. Ginny fell over against him releasing her mirth. When they had calmed a little, she continued.

"Now, we all carry tissue with us and drop it on anything we're getting ready to use."

A fresh wave of laughter swept over them.

When they calmed down, Harry got up and asked her to walk the path to the lighthouse. During the stroll, he relaxed into the time with Ginny, savoring each moment. He knew he had to talk to her about Hermione, but…not now. Instead, he concentrated on her movements. If anything, she'd become more graceful and certainly more confident. Every little shift or turn commanded his attention. They climbed to the top of the lighthouse, Ginny leading the way. She knew he was watching and turned her face upward, grinning. She made it obvious by words and actions that she wanted him.

Harry brought out his camera, snapping pictures of her on the spiral staircase and she ascended. The photos were for his eyes only and definitely to be kept secret from Ron. Exiting into the sunshine, she squinted to look back at the South Stack cliffs. Harry came out just then and photographed her profile, tendrils of her long red locks ghosting across her face. He knew that picture was destined for his office desk.

They walked slowly along the outside rail hand-in-hand. He would occasionally point out landmarks and ask about them. They stopped on the west side of the lighthouse looking at South Stack.

Ginny mused, "You know, in the entire year with the team I've never been here. It's a different angle. The cliffs and sea are beautiful."

"Some things need to be looked at differently to see the beauty. Then again, some things are beautiful at all angles." Harry said, looking into her eyes.

Ginny smirked at him. "It must be the glasses." She tapped them. "Too much rose."

She turned serious. "Harry, I am enjoying this but there must be some ulterior motive for your unplanned visit."

"Well…" He looked away.

"Please don't act all innocent. I can tell when you're hiding something. Just out with it."

"It's Hermione. Something's wrong but she won't tell. Ron says she's acts afraid to be alone but disappears every couple of days. When she comes back, she's scared and weak. It's tearing him up."

"I wish those two would just get together."

"This isn't about their love life. I heard of an incident at Hogwarts where she was involved. The descriptions of her reactions then are the same as the way she is now. Do you remember anything happening like this during your last year?"

"There was something, but I can't…."

"Ginny, this is important!"

"Alright…yes, but I promised I wouldn't say anything. She seemed ok later in the year…when she was with Luna."

"What about Luna?"

"Harry, I'm pretty sure they were lovers."

"Hermione and Luna?"

"Yes. I told Ron. I thought he told you."

"No, he didn't." Harry shook his head. "It doesn't matter. What do you know of the incident."

"I said I wouldn't tell. She begged me!"

"You'd let this keep happening over a promise to the person it's happening to? Please Ginny. We're her closest friends. We have to help and we can't without knowing what it is."

"Harry, I promised to Luna too."

"Ginny!" he smacked the wall with his palm. "Luna's not here…not really. This will have Ron running mad and might destroy Hermione too. I will NOT stand by while it happens. How can you?"

She sighed and looked out to sea, her eyes focusing on a two-masted schooner.

"Her patronus came to me. All it said was 'help me…bathroom.' Luna found me on the third floor hallway; said she got the message too."

Her eyes followed the sailboat as she blinked rapidly. "We found her in the girl's loo, the same one where you fought the troll. She was in her pajamas, lying on the floor. She had deep cuts at her ribs, blood all over, wiping her hands in it and crying." Ginny looked back at him. "Harry, she had pissed herself. This was the woman I had looked up to most of my life. She hadn't broken under torture but here she was, shattered, lying in her own urine. What kind of horrors could do that Harry?"

"Didn't she tell you?"

"It was somebody she knew. A witch. Hermione told me, yes. I knew her too, but I don't anymore. Hermione asked that I have the name obliviated from me. I agreed."

"But Luna still knew, right."

Ginny turned back around, the white and blue sails catching her attention again. "Luna helped her fight. They worked to keep the witch away. I remember something about trying to trap her, using the Aurors. I don't know details; that was taken from me too. I only know it failed. Then we heard of those 12 muggles dying in a big automobile accident and fire on Chelsea bridge. After that, Hermione said the witch had done it and begged me to keep quiet about the attacks on her. She never said anything about the problem, again."

"That's it?"

"That's all I know. Luna kept me out of it. If it's happening again, I don't know what to do."

Harry grabbed her arm and turned her toward him. "I think I know where to start. She can't know we're doing anything." He smiled at her and shrugged. "Of course, she already knows we suspect something….and….she's bright enough to figure we'll try to get involved. So, I guess, we'll be sneaky."

"Not going to try something you're actually good at?"

"Aurors get taught some capabilities that make them sneaky. Ron's quite good at it."

She snorted a laugh. "Maybe he can keep it from her. His track record's not good, though."

"Hermione is distracted with Luna's problem and now the witch is back. It could work."

"How is Luna?"

"Well, the week before last, Luna had another bad episode. Ron and I had to leave. Hermione said that later Luna said some large buildings in New York would be destroyed sometime next year."

"Really? How did she know?"

"Actually, she didn't. Hermione asked her remember things from this year. This past Thursday, Luna gave her a list of some things."

"What do you mean, she 'remembers' things?"

"She sees things from the future in her memories from her childhood."

"From her….what?"

"Her memories are not the same as before. You recall when she first woke up at St. Mungos, she couldn't even remember all our names. One of the memories matched a muggle news story. The others are supposed to happen in the next few days, according to Hermione."

"You have to owl me if these things turn out right."

"I will. Let's walk back."

As they descended the stairs, he commented, "Since you have the day off tomorrow, I thought we'd pop over to Dublin. To make it easier, I'm staying at the Britannia. We could get a really early start if you stayed with me."

Ginny grinned at him. "I like that idea. I'll have to ask Gwenog, though. If she says 'no', I'm not sneaking out. I won't lose a position on the team just to sleep in your bed Auror Potter."


	6. Why My Heart is So Broken

**6\. Why My Heart is So Broken, Rejecting Your Love.**

Hermione sat at the kitchen table staring at her in reflection the cup's contents. Muggle periodicals, opened to specific articles, littered the space in front of her. Gentle steamy wisps barely rose from tea's surface. Soon it would be too cold to be worth drinking. The swirling thoughts in her head drew her bottom lip between her teeth and thrust aside any consideration of warming charms or drinking. Her right hand lay limply on the table, holding a parchment with markings recognizable as the new version of handwriting from Luna Lovegood.

Since Ron was on an overnight mission with the team, Hermione had decided to research the 'memories' Luna had given her on their last visit. She traveled after work to the Charing Cross Library, collecting the past 7 days of newspapers which were there for the reading in an open area. They had all of the ones from London as well as those from major English-speaking cities around the world. Grabbing each day's worth of several newspapers, Hermione performed a Geminio and secreted the copies into her expanded bag. It took time to ensure she wasn't seen doing magic. Even so, one of the staff confronted her with the accusation that she was seen stuffing library periodicals into her bag. A quick inventory of the newspapers showed that the witness was mistaken.

Her visit with Luna had been on Thursday, July 6th. Today was July 12th. She looked down at the sports article from The New York Times.

/-/-/-/-/ -/-/-/-/

 _ **TENNIS; Venus Williams Wins Wimbledon, Lighting Up Center Court**_

 _By SELENA ROBERTS JULY 9, 2000_

 _The colorful beads and butterfly hair clips that marked the teenage style of Venus Williams were gone. From the moment she strode onto Center Court today, the streamlined 20-year-old with the Paul Bunyan backswing had the look of a serious young woman. A scowl was as good as any accessory._

 _Only at the last moment, as a forehand volley slipped off Lindsay Davenport's racket, did Williams release her furrowed brow and let pure joy take over. Suddenly, she was leaping across the lawn of Center Court like a child twirling through a backyard sprinkler._

 _She could not contain herself. She had to share the moment. So Williams bounded up the stairs that led to the edge of the friends box, embraced her little sister Serena and slapped hands with her clairvoyant father, who was doing a soft-shoe on top of a broadcast booth. Just as Richard Williams had predicted a day before, his daughter Venus won today with her 6-3, 7-6 (3) finals victory at the All England Club._

/-/-/-/-/ -/-/-/-/

Moving that newsprint to the side, she reached out for the others. She'd read them already but meticulously spread them out before her. The papers were open to the stories and folded flat. The New York Times again wound up on the left, the page D6 article headline clearly visible.

/-/-/-/-/ -/-/-/-/

 _ **Justin Pierce, 25; Starred in 'Kids'**_

 _By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS JULY 11, 2000_

 _Las Vegas, NV. Justin Pierce, who starred in the 1995 film ''Kids,'' was found dead on Monday in his room at the Bellagio Hotel here. He was 25 and lived in Los Angeles._

 _He apparently had hanged himself, the police said._

 _Mr. Pierce's latest film, ''Pigeonholed,'' also stars Chris Noth, of NBC's ''Law and Order,'' and Rosanna Arquette._

 _Mr. Pierce appeared in two episodes of the Fox television show ''Malcolm in the Middle'' and with the rapper Ice Cube in ''Next Friday,'' a film released earlier this year._

 _In ''Kids,'' Mr. Pierce played one of a group of dispirited teenagers whose lives are ruled by drugs, sex and violence. His film credits also include ''A Brother's Kiss'' (1997)._

/-/-/-/-/ -/-/-/-/

The Guardian's accounts of the past/future were next up. Hermione eyes trace each line, her mind still trying to hold onto disbelief. A list of possible reasons for Luna's knowledge built itself and fell apart in moments. She sighed at her inability to reconcile the new reality with her beliefs about this reality. Having read the article without comprehending a word, she started on the next story for the fourth time.

/-/-/-/-/ -/-/-/-/

 _ **World News: 250 feared dead in Nigerian pipeline explosion**_

 _By BBC, Tuesday 11 July 2000_

 _As many as 250 people are feared dead after a damaged petroleum pipeline exploded in southern Nigeria._

 _Many of the victims were scooping up the petrol in buckets when the blast occurred. Scores of scorched bodies lay near the refined products pipeline in the village of Adeje on the highway leading north from the oil city of Warri, according to witnesses._

 _Police cordoned off the scene of the explosion, which occurred yesterday in the oil-rich Niger delta. State petroleum workers rushed to the area to assess the damage, officials said. The cause of the accident was unclear and a government statement signed by information minister Jerry Gana late on Monday said "several lives" were lost and a "vital" petroleum pipeline destroyed._

 _"The government sympathizes with the families of those who lost their lives in the incident," the statement added. A reporter who returned from the scene quoted officials as saying that the initial leak was caused by vandals who punctured the pipeline with sharp tools….._

/-/-/-/-/ -/-/-/-/

Another terrible tragedy seemingly predicted. Hermione understood that spectacular things would be most likely remembered by a child. It just seemed sad that this is what stayed with Luna or, rather, the person whose memories she had now. Maybe the memories given by the rune only took that form and didn't belong to anyone, except that they were Luna's now. Brown curls flopped about wildly from the physical manifestation of her attempt to clear her mind. Thinking about this just confused her more and now was not the time.

She picked up the final article in the July ninth issue which she had only read once. Knowing made it hard, but this; this tore at her. Had she been told before, could she have changed it? Would she have simply been a modern Cassandra; mocked till too late? Her brown eyes grew misty at the confirmation of Luna's memory by the previous three recollections and what it meant for this one. It was easy to find on page A3, because it was a hot story referenced on the front.

/-/-/-/-/ -/-/-/-/

 _ **Every day gets harder, say missing Logan's parents**_

 _By JAMES PORTER Sunday 9 July 2000_

 _The parents of missing eight-year-old Logan Meyer said they are convinced their daughter is still alive despite being missing for nine days._

 _Clutching a white teddy bear, her mother Lara was close to tears as she said: "This is for you darling. They (Logan's brothers and sister) never stop thinking about you, darling."_

 _The fresh plea came as it emerged that detectives working on the search are to be offered counselling because of the distressing nature of the hunt. Sussex Police's welfare unit is arriving at Brighton police station, East Sussex, to assess how officers are coping and offer counselling to those who want it, senior officers said._

 _Logan's family has already been offered specialist counselling to cope with their ordeal since she vanished from the Recreation Park near Goldstone Cres in Hove, East Sussex, but officers refused to say if they had accepted it._

 _The parents said the belief that she is still alive is driving them on._

 _"That's what is keeping us going, that she's out there somewhere and we are just waiting to find her," Andrew Meyer told GMTV._

 _"There is no question in my mind, it is just a matter of time and, yes, it does get harder."_

 _His wife added: "Every day gets harder than before, in fact every hour gets harder than the one before."_

 _The couple said a visit to the incident room had helped their other children see the efforts being made to trace Logan, but added that it was particularly difficult time for their younger daughter, Kathryn._

/-/-/-/-/ -/-/-/-/

The parchment in her hand was almost burning to be opened again. Everything was there. Sure it was a little cryptic, but nothing like Divination or Horoscope. She thought back to her visit almost a week ago.

* * *

Her brown eyes diminished as she scowled at the print in her hand.

"This is it, then? Your predictions?"

"Memories, Hermione. They are here, however they found their way in." Luna retorted, pointing at her head.

The parchment was new, the printing bold. Hermione found herself missing the handwriting from the class notes Luna had lent her in school. She read the words aloud.

/-/-/-/-/ -/-/-/-/

 _1\. A girl named Logan found dead on July 16 or 17. She went missing a couple of weeks before. She was 8._

 _2\. An American actor dies on Monday. Jason or Jacob. Something with a J. He hanged himself._

 _3\. A black woman wins the cup at Wimbledon._

 _4\. Big oil pipe blows up in Africa on the 10th or 11th._

/-/-/-/-/ -/-/-/-/

Teary eyed, Luna stated, "I remembered the girl because she was my age and she was found just a month before my birthday. Mamai held me and cried. She said she'd have died had it been me. My parents or my older sisters kept me and my brother close to them for a long time after."

"I understand. They were afraid. Just one thing; your birthday is in February but I guess your memories are of someone born in August. Um…sisters? Sorry, I keep getting caught up in the Luna I know."

"My memories are all that I know about me. I can't change it myself. I have decided that I am Luna, but I will embrace this past that tells me about the future."

"Well, that's what I will research this week. The newspapers are kept in the muggle library. I can find past copies to confirm the story of the missing girl."

"The missing girl." Luna whispered. "If I had accepted my memories a week or two earlier, maybe you could have…." She wiped her hand across her eyes.

"Stop this!" the brunette exclaimed, brushing at tears of her own. "We cannot beat ourselves over failures. The buildings are a bigger problem. We know about that. We have to find a way to convince the American wizard government that this will happen."

"They know about Divination….use that, maybe?"

"That discipline is couched in fog. They could simply say we have the wrong interpretation. Another problem is the manufacturing a prophecy that actually sounds like Divination. I really can't do that."

"I'll try to remember things further in the future. There are so many things I remember, but I can't put dates to them."

"Yes, that's smart Luna; keep trying. Then we can be ready to convince them. I will check these predictions this week. Now, let's try to bring your old memories back. I have some pictures of you, me and Ron at the beach."

* * *

Hermione set the Guardian aside. She couldn't continue to read about the parent's beliefs when she knew the little girl wasn't coming back to them. She had all she needed to confirm the memories. Time to stop and get back to figuring out the rune. Her sense of fastidiousness wouldn't let her simply leave the table, so she gathered the papers together, discarding the ones without references to the predictions. It was only half six, and she had no reason to avoid the research. She stood, turned and walked up the stairs to the lab.

Entering the parlor/lab, she was confronted with a glass vase containing two purple hyacinths and three white carnations. A rolled parchment was lying at its base. Carnations are her favorite flower. No mystery here; she knew it was from Ron. She frowned. The last time she got flowers was at graduation, also from him. She'd thought it was an odd combination, a dozen white roses woven through with purple heather and two yellow tulips. It had been arranged beautifully, though.

He had tried so hard at first, but Hermione was confused then, and there was Luna. It just fell apart. Ron even said she hadn't been the same since the Christmas hols and it was enough to be friends. Against her expectations, after the break-up he worked through the awkwardness and stayed the best of friends. He was always available when he wasn't on a mission, unfailingly loyal.

The night of Luna's accident, he'd stayed with her at St. Mungo's. They sat till morning, Hermione waking up in his arms. Ron was her rock during the tumultuous first weeks. Luna's lack of recognition of them and even herself, along with her fear of magic, tore at Hermione's heart. She spent nearly every evening being consoled by him. Looking back now, she realized how stressed and tired he'd looked, never even mentioning a need for rest. Others began mistaking them as a couple, but they weren't. There wasn't any intimacy, was there? No snogging, no touching, no spark, but there must have been something for Harry to think it.

In May, Ron started trying again, meeting her for lunch on Fridays without Harry. Hermione didn't recognize his efforts until the third week after Harry came into the restaurant. When he saw them, he ordered takeaway, waited for it and left with just a quick wave at her. She commented to Ron about the oddity and he dismissed it with a "..must be busy..". His ears were red though, and she picked up on the clues. In early June he took her broom riding near the Burrow, low and slow, vowing to teach her to be a "real" witch. After a few hours, they retired to the pond, legs hanging off the dock while they enjoyed the warm afternoon talking and eating sandwiches. He held her hand most of the time, occasionally glancing at their intertwined fingers. A few real dates happened, the cinema, twice, and once, surprisingly, dancing at a club. It was after the dancing that he kissed her goodnight. It wasn't much but more than a peck, his hand threading through the curls behind her right ear. Short it was, but she could still feel it. It brought forth a sensation she hadn't felt for him since the last Christmas holiday from Hogwarts.

Then he'd rejected her. He was so repulsed by her body that he couldn't even speak. No; he spoke. He spoke enough to let her know he didn't want what he saw. Sure, he recovered quickly after her reaction to his refusal, voicing some pitiful excuses. But, she'd felt his shaking as he held her, sheer will power keeping him there. She wasn't good enough for love…but woman enough for pleasure, as long as he didn't have to look at her. All women are beautiful when the lights are out! Then he had the nerve to make a joke….as if he hadn't completely torn her up! It hurt….still hurts!

He was at lunch the next day, smiling, holding her chair, when all she wanted to do was slink away from his gaze. The conversation was unchanged. His voice remained even and light. Things were different, though. The next lunch and their other regular encounters were no closer to normal. There were no touches on her shoulder, no reaching to grab her hand, and no accidental brushes on her arm…no physical contact at all. Except…..except when she came to him after her encounters with Bellatrix. Ron would hold her, calmly rubbing her back or stroking her hair. He showed compassion and caring but never asked questions or pressed her to talk about it. She could tell he was upset by these episodes, but he never showed it openly. He was just there for her, just like….like he always had been. At these times, he was the Ron who stood by her in Australia as her parents vented their anger; the Ron who pulled her from the chandelier wreckage and carried her to Shell Cottage. He was being the Ron who begged Bellatrix to take him instead of her; the Ron who cared for Hermione.

What was going on?

Ron steps back from her for almost two weeks, then sends her flowers? He acts like he wants her, but refuses her, and still remains her comfort. But he sent her flowers. Hyacinths, that communicate request for forgiveness. White carnations? Good luck? For what? Maybe he was using her love of carnations to convince her to give him sexual favors. She pulled her wand; sure she would burn the parchment.

She could not.

She unrolled it instead, watched the photograph fall out onto the table, and read the words.

/-/-/-/-/ -/-/-/-/

 _Hermione,_

 _I'm not sure what to say. I hurt you when I turned you down. I didn't mean to._

 _Then I stopped holding hands and the other things. I had my reasons that first time, but I have let it go on for too long without talking about it. I don't know what made me do this, but I see my actions are hurting you. I didn't mean for that to happen either._

 _Do you really think I refused you because I didn't like what I saw? How can you think that you are anything less than beautiful to me? You have set my standard for beauty. Look at the photograph._

 _That woman with scrapes on her jaw, sitting on the dune, survived torture from a mad vicious witch._

 _She is beautiful._

 _That woman lied to this evil insane witch while enduring the Cruciatus._

 _She is strong; she is beautiful._

 _Look at her. She is only 18 years old. Look at her eyes. You can see the hollowness she is trying to overcome as she stares at the ocean waves._

 _She overcame. She is beautiful._

 _I am a man who watched this woman grow into this strength, this resolve, this magnificent maturity. I have touched her soft skin. I have felt the emotional outburst as she came and shouted out my name. I have comforted her as she cried and sobbed out my name._

 _How could I ever think she is not beautiful?_

 _This woman forgave me when I left her in a tent, hiding from her potential murderers. She held me and kept me alive when I wanted to wreak vengeance for my dead brother. She held me when I got lost in my grief for that brother._

 _How could I ever think she is not beautiful?_

 _Then this woman, this wonderful woman, showed me her body. I was stunned into silence. Believe me, my brain was overloaded. She had confirmed what I thought from looking at her clothed body. She is beautiful._

 _Hermione, I have thought you were beautiful for a long time. Please forgive me, if I ever made you think I believed anything else._

 _Love,_

 _Ron_

/-/-/-/-/ -/-/-/-/

"He is lying; and I am not insane."

Hermione jolted. She hadn't felt the witch apparate in.

"How….how…in here? There are strong wards."

"Did you forget Hogwarts, you stupid bint? You're the key, my filthy little gewgaw. I can go anywhere you go. Oh! That's a clue, isn't it? Mea Culpa." The older witch giggled. "But I'm still going to charge you for it. That's a cut…for my mistake. Unfair? Talk to someone who gives a shit!"

"Two cuts….I...erm…I will do that."

"You can not dismiss me that easily. We need to discuss the traitor's letter, and the pretty flowers. You read the letter and I bet you still don't know the white carnations are for pure love. Merlin's flaccid penis, mudblood! You are dense!"

"Love? He's sorry; he says I'm beautiful, and he expresses love?"

"He's just trying to get another blowjob."

"But he didn't want sex when I offered. He said he wanted love first."

"Bollocks! You are being played for the fool you are. He doesn't want you. He just wants to use you. I say you don't give him any more. Let's just burn this parchment; the flowers too."

" **No!"**

Hermione felt the blast of magic fly from her and throw the pale witch to the wall behind them, glass vials breaking all around.

"You dirty little slag! How dare you defy me! I am in control here!"

Bellatrix's hand, cut and bleeding, reaches around Hermione's head and covers her mouth. She can feel liquid run down the side of her neck.

"You listen to me, filth. I'll let you keep the offerings from the deluded blood traitor, but you owe me another cut. You want that?"

Hermione nods her head, tears dripping from her eyelashes. The hand releases her mouth.

"Oooo, the mudblood wants love from the traitor. You think the pureblood loves my toy? Maybe he does. What to do?"

"He does love me. He says I'm beautiful."

"Oh, shut it, dirt! You're talking like a daft cow. Wait! You love him too! I thought you were a dyke, licking on the crazy slut's cunt. This makes things so much more fun.  
You know you aren't worthy of him; you are pitiful. So, you don't give the traitor anything. No kisses…you don't respond to his touches…nothing for him. Telling him you love him is his death sentence. Warn him about me and the crazy one dies. Say. You. Understand. You. Manky. Twat."

Hermione slowly nods her head in agreement. "I understand." she whispers, a few fresh tears sliding down her cheeks.

"Good. You know your place. You may have the knife now. Three cuts was the agreed amount, I believe. Slowly and deep. I want a lot of blood this time."


	7. To watch you, to guide you

**A/N: Guest reviewer Francis pointed out some problems with my story, so in reply.**

 **Agreed, there should be no Auror academy. Perhaps it would be law enforcement training and Auror's are trained further in an apprenticeship (sort of) and I have modified Chapter 4 accordingly. I personally disagree that there are less than 10,000 magical people in Britain. How could the 13 professional Quidditch teams and the multiple magical periodicals remain profitable with so few people able to sample them?**

 **Disagree that Draco could not become a member of the Auror corps. He was forced to become a Death Eater by direct threats to the lives of his family. It is likely he would have been acquitted or minimally punished. However, I am willing to consider this to be outside of canon.**

 **7\. To watch you, to guide you through the darkest of your days.**

"She's at her parents'. Please tell me we're meeting because you got something."

Ron moved into the room wiping his left hand over his face, trying to banish the fatigue. At least he didn't have to hide it from Harry. The regular work load of minor investigations, preparations for the McMurdo trip and some unexpected bodyguard assignments was exhausting enough. Add to that, pretending to be on overnight missions while he helped Harry set up and test different monitoring systems for this house. They even had to wait until after Hermione left on some nights. Twice he'd stayed up with her as she took comfort from him and he reveled in the feel of her wanting him, even if it was only for that. After all that effort, none of the monitor-and-record charms had worked so far. They knew Hermione had been there but the charms only showed empty rooms the entire time.

Harry looked up from the video monitor. "The shielded cable did the trick. The lady at the electronics store said to use it if there were any magnetic fields or electric lines nearby. I still wasn't sure it would work but the signal passed through the wards without any real distortion of the picture. "

"It was a good idea to use muggle cameras then…I mean…since the charms didn't give us anything, I thought it was worth a try. So, did you see the other witch?"

"No, the cameras weren't completely unaffected. The video has lots of breaks and distortion probably because of the magic used in the rooms. By the way, thank George for disguising each video camera."

"He was happy to do it; wouldn't let up on the questions though. I finally told him it was for Auror surveillance set up on a secret mission. So, why am I here, if you didn't get what we needed?"

"Just watch the video. At least it shows her there. More than the charms did."

Harry queued up the video showing a wide angle shot of the kitchen as Hermione, dressed in jeans and loose blouse with wand in hand, steps out of the fireplace,. She moves the wand and the video freezes for a few seconds then resumes showing her looking around. It freezes again and resumes again with her setting her bag on a chair at the table.

Harry commented, "Homenum Revelio. I think she does it when there's not supposed to be anyone home. I was home early once when she came after work. She cast the spell then and was pretty shook up until I shouted out to her."

"The spell doesn't take that long though, and the picture stopped twice."

Harry paused the playback. "That was the spell returning from going through the house, for the report back. The magic washing over the camera seems to stop it from working. It looks like it takes more time to recover than just the time that a spell passes by it. You'll see the same problem in later parts." He restarts the video.

Hermione moves toward the cupboard, looking off to her left at the oven and cooktop. She reaches up for a cup on the middle shelf. The video freezes for about two seconds. When it returns, she is looking at Kreacher who obviously just apparated in. The elf escorts her to a seat and goes back to prepare her tea. The scene continues with Kreacher magically heating the water and Hermione pulling newsprint from her bag. The video makes little skips here and there; and also has groups of small squares randomly appearing and distorting the picture.

Ron observes, "Even that little bit of magic for heating the water caused trouble for the camera."

"Yeah, it gets worse with the other camera. It could be because it's closer to her."

"Can the camera itself have a shield from magic?"

"Don't know."

At this point, Hermione has her tea and is arranging the newspapers. Video freezes again. Then, Kreacher is talking to the sitting woman, waving his arms and pointing at the stove. He grabs her arm giving it an exaggerated squeeze and poking her ribs. She slumps her shoulders and nods her head. Ron smiles, knowing she is rolling her eyes. The elf turns, video freeze, he's back, bread on the table, Hermione looking at a paper and reaching for the cup. Another freeze, then back again, then the stuttering picture shows knives cutting meat and Kreacher giving her a fork. Pixelating distortion pops up here and there. Kreacher turns, video freezes…then Hermione is eating a sandwich over her salad. Another freeze…Kreacher's back trying to pull the newspaper from her hand. He is successful and she is speaking to him while forcefully pointing at the table. The old elf puts the newsprint on the table. Video freezes, recovers showing Hermione putting a forkful of salad in her mouth, the bread is gone. Video freeze, a flash of movement, freeze again, return again with the witch rubbing her leg and reading a paper.

"Harry, she's just reading. I could look at Hermione all night, but I hope we're going see something more important. I'm not really following it, right now."

"I told Kreacher to use magic as little as possible. We compromised so that he could serve any guests but would apparate only for that. You can see it really messes with the picture. I could try to move through the recording faster, but it's difficult to catch the right spots. I'm not very good with this thing, yet."

"Maybe you could try, because this watching her without getting anything from it is.. Wait…what's wrong with her?"

The playback is showing Hermione alternately crumpling and flattening a newspaper, while wiping her eyes. Finally, she pushes it away from her.

Harry looked at Ron, remarking, "That's the paper with the story about the kidnapped girl. She showed it to me this morning and I noticed it was wrinkled. She didn't mention that she was this upset by it."

"Oh…right. She has been getting more emotional, lately. That's a more than I expected, but the stress is getting to her. Look, how about you try skipping ahead."

Harry sighed and pushed the fast-forward button. The screen showed the fast motion shuffling of newspapers as she read and reread them. Ron watched the rapid succession appearance of the hair twirling and foot tapping that is uniquely Hermione when reading. He couldn't see her chewing her lower lip because the camera resolution was too low, but he knew it was there too. The scene was interrupted three times. Twice with scenes of Kreacher in the parlor with the vase and parchment, then once with a quick swirl of black. She put the papers in her bag and got up. Harry pressed the play button and the scene slowed to normal. She moved her wand and the video froze.

Ron grinned at him. "You didn't have any trouble at all, that I could see."

Harry stopped the playback. "Yeah…about that. I was holding the button down before. I thought I would try just pushing it just once this time; same as with the play button. On Uncle Vernon's video player, he had to hold the button to move the tape faster. It was really old."

"Well, thanks for doing that. I probably would have fallen asleep, tired as I am. It was the same when I would sit with her the summer after the battle; she would read and I'd just drift off. What was with the switching to the parlor?"

"Motion detectors on the cameras, remember? You used Kreacher to put the flowers out. He had to move in the room. That flash of black is from the parlor camera too. At normal speed it is just black, like the camera is frozen on a picture of black fabric. It only lasts a few seconds then switches back to Hermione."

"Do you think it was the other witch….already in the house?"

"The wards were supposed to record everything that crosses them. You had Bill set them to make sure they were right. The only crossings yesterday were Kreacher twice, an owl, and Hermione when she arrived. She slept here last night. You saw her when we got back this morning."

"But something happened or else why did you want to show it to me?"

"Look, we're never going to get through this if you keep stopping it to ask questions. Just let's watch it to the end. There'll be plenty to discuss after you see the rest."

Harry pushed the play button and they turned their attention back to the video. The freeze shifts to Hermione entering the parlor from left of frame, and stopping when she sees the flowers. She stands transfixed for almost a minute, one hand on the outside of the doorframe, as if reluctant to enter. The delay, so similar to a camera freeze, was finally broken by the witch's slow walk to the table. She pauses in front of the vase. Her left hand, shaking visible even in the low resolution video, reaches to caress a carnation. She stares at the flowers as she touches each one in turn. Leaning toward them, she takes an extended inhale while lifting her face slightly toward the ceiling. Her eyes are closed as she leans back and stops moving. Hermione opens her eyes and stares for a considerable time at the vase and parchment. Her wand becomes visible in her right hand. Ron recognizes the set in her stance as the beginning of a spell casting. She stops, drops her head, and brings her left hand to her chest. Then she reaches out and with the wand in hand she unrolls the parchment.

Ron took a quick look over at his friend. Harry knows the depth of his feelings for Hermione; and his recent frustration. He didn't know the reason for the note though, other than it was a request for forgiveness. The choice of flowers made that obvious. Even though he didn't want Harry to know, he was sure that his friend wouldn't judge him if he did find out.

Turning back, he watched Hermione stare at the note much longer than it should have taken to read it. Then she shook her head and he could see her lips moving.

"Here's where it makes less sense. It looks like she's talking to someone."

"Harry, she has talked to herself before."

Hermione shakes her head more violently, and leans back a bit.

"Maybe the witch is disillusioned, ya think?"

"Ron…just watch this next…"

Suddenly an explosive outburst pushes bottles, tools and everything except the flowers and Ron's parchment, forcefully away from Hermione. A cloud of flying particles whips around her before the scene freezes for an instant then switches to a screen full of unorganized pixels.

"What the hell was that!"

"That outburst broke the camera. There's no more video from the parlor. The motion detector still works, so the signal stays like this for most of the rest of the recording. Here, I'll skip to the next real picture." Harry pushes the fast forward and moves his finger to hover over the play button.

"She lost control! She doesn't do that. We've got…"

"Ron, she had her wand. It wasn't accidental magic. The flowers and your letter weren't touched."

A picture of the kitchen appears and Harry returns the video to normal speed as Hermione enters. She is moving slowly, head bowed. As she turns toward the cupboard, a red-stained portion of her blouse is revealed. Ron quickly stands up running his hand through his hair.

"I already told you what Ginny said about the cuts."

They watch her open the cupboard door and pull a small bottle of dittany out. She starts to unbutton her blouse, then stops, picks up her wand and waves it. The camera image fills with random unorganized pixels to the point that they could only see blotches of moving colors. Harry stopped the video.

"Did she know about the camera?"

"I doubt it. She probably set up a Muffliato to keep Kreacher from hearing her. Dittany on deep cuts hurts. You were unconscious and still got loud after you were splinched."

"Deep cuts?!...Yeah, I know. You told me that too. Not the same as seeing it!"

"Ron…"

"We've got to do something! This can't go on. She's…."

"Ron, calm…"

"I won't just stand around…."

"ENOUGH! You calm down, now! We are **not** just standing around. This is only the first step and you should know better. It won't be solved by running at it with wands drawn. Why is it you can plan a six-man assault without breaking a sweat but can't even remember the slightest thing now?"

"You know why, Harry."

"Yeah, mate, I do. It's just that you're not helping by losing control. She needs our help and she can't know we're doing it. That's not going to happen if you don't get your head on straight. Hermione needs Ron the Auror planner not Ron the upset boyfriend."

"Right, sorry…I'm…well…ok….sorry." Ron grinned sheepishly.

Harry chuckled, "Well said. Can we talk about our next move now?"

"Sure. You have some idea who this witch is?"

"Well, I can't find any evidence that there is a witch. Nothing crossed the wards all day yesterday except Hermione, an owl, and Kreacher."

"Maybe she was already in the house."

"No. Hermione checked when she got there. She would have known. No one crossed those wards. I tried under the cloak and disillusioned. Bill's setup caught me every time."

"Harry, this witch got into Hogwarts undetected. She could have invented a way to apparate through wards undetected. Remember the black fabric in the recording. That was in the parlor."

Harry sighed, "Ok, one piece of evidence that suggests someone else was in the house. But as an Auror, you have to allow for the possibility that this is all Hermione."

"As long as you allow for new magic."

"Of course. So what does our high scoring strategist plan to do as our next step?"

"Ok. Give me a minute."

Ron starts pacing, talking and punching his right palm. Harry simply sits and watches, knowing his friend is getting into his zone.

"Well, for some reason she doesn't want to tell **us** about it, but Luna did know. She was even permitted to help. The witch allowed this but when other people were told, innocent people were killed. Luna is the key to getting information. We have to convince her to get information from Hermione; name of the witch or what she looks like."

The pacing slowed as his speaking lowered in volume and his hand made occasional passes through his ginger hair.

"So….controlling her….hurting her too…making it last. But not just the pain….the not knowing when….using her concern for others against her….having Hermione obey so others are safe. Torturing her in every way…obsessed with her…like Bellatrix. Bellatrix? No. She's dead….saw it myself. Maybe someone getting revenge…a relative? By why Hermione and not Mom? Did Bellatrix have a horcrux? She knew about the cup in her vault. Did she know what it was? Did she make one?

Harry stood and moved to stop Ron's pacing.

"All good questions, but you're talking yourself in circles. I like the idea of getting Luna to help. We can use her faulty memory as an excuse for her to ask Hermione about it. We'll move forward after we get more information. And, this works even if there is no other witch."

"There's another witch; there has to be. I'm going to find out who."

"But what if…"

"No Harry. I'm not exploring that right now. I'm gonna take a walk, clear my head a little; think about the horcrux angle, again."

With that, Ron turned and walked out of the room. He crossed over into the lower hallway and out the front door, slamming it behind him. He turned west, shoved his hands in the jumper pockets and walked quickly into the slight breeze. Several blocks away, he was still mulling over horcurxes when he felt uncomfortable. There were no other people around.

From behind him, a quick scrape, then a voice he recognized.

"Lovely night for a stroll, isn't it?"

Turning and whipping out his wand was futile. He felt her hand and the pull on his navel before he finished. The wand was ripped out of his left hand before their spin stopped. His legs snapped together and he fell forward, stopping an instant before his nose collided with the wooden floor; a wooden floor with old thick blood stains on it. Then he dropped the last two inches and saw stars.

"Wouldn't want you to be unconscious for this, now would we? Takes the fun out of it. Diffindo!"

"Augh!" A cut opened across Ron's left shoulder blade, bleeding enough that he could feel it flowing around his side.

"Now let's see; right…Bombarda!"

The concussion from explosion near his right arm breaks his forearm bones and flips him over. He slides for a few inches, imbedding old blood and dirt in his fresh back wound.

"Www…uh…what do y-you want, from me?"

"Typical man! You think that just because you have a cock, everything's about you. Well, it isn't! But I don't like it when my playthings get presumptuous. So, just a little reminder of your error; Diffindo!"

Ron's right thigh opens up down to the muscle, pouring out blood and soaking his jeans. He starts quick puffs in his breathing to take his focus off the pain. Finally looking at her, all he sees is a black cloak over black robes. She is thin based on the movement under the clothes. He cannot see her face but the hair sticking out of the hood is black with white strands shot through it. There is no skin in sight; black gloves cover her hands.

"T-this is about Her-hermione? You're the one?"

Quickly stepping closer, she shrieked, "The mudblood told you?! I. Warned. That. Bitch. What. Would. Happen." punctuating each word with a kick to his ribs.

"No." he wheezed. "She didn't. W-we learned it from the Aurors."

"Liar! Diffindo!" A cut opens across Ron's chest. "This _**was**_ just a show to keep the slag in line. Now you'll get worse. Maybe you'll live through it. No matter; the little piece of filth will still get to admire the art. Diffindo!"

Ron doesn't feel anything at first, then warmth flows across his right hand and drips off his fingers.

He stammered out through gritted teeth, "Y-you can go ahead and kill me, I won't help you h-hurt her."

"Oh, so heroic. You stupid gorilla. Give up your life or not; it won't save her. She already belongs to me. She just doesn't know it yet. Pity that soon you won't know it either."

She cast another Diffindo slicing down his chest, then took a step back.

"I used only two spells and did so well! One look and you can experience the depth of emotion. Angst, a betrayer marked, and young love destroyed. Poor little boy. Almost done…just one more…hmmm…oh! Brilliant…Bombarda!"

The curse hit the floor at just the right distance to whip Ron's head sideways but not knock him out. He knew he had a severe concussion. He couldn't focus his eyes and wanted to vomit.

He barely registered her singsong lilt. "There, that's good enough. Time to show off my artwork."

He feels two pulls; one in his hair and the other at his navel. This time he does puke. Forcing himself to look around, he sees that he's at the Granger's front door. He also realizes that the apparation had been almost completely silent. He feels a thick folded parchment shoved into his hand. His wand drops to the grass, out of reach.

"I'm a bit of a shy artist, so…Obliviate!" Ron passes out.

A loud noise startles him awake. He sees the front door is blown off its hinges and lying against the far wall of the front room. He quickly becomes aware of great pain, a parchment in his hand and the shine of lights turning on in the windows. Voices.

"What happened? The door…oh."

"Jean, stay back. It was some kind of explosion. There's someone lying outside."

"Mum, what's happened"

Ron turns toward Hermione's voice. His fuzzy vision still lets him recognize that she has her wand ready. He tries to lift himself.

The man speaks, "Just lay still, son. We'll call for help."

Hermione's voice, closer, "Dad? Who is…Ron?...RON! Oh Merlin, he's hurt bad. Dad, what can we do?"

"I'm going to call an ambulance."

"Right…Uh…wait…No, Dad, we have to get him to St. Mungos. Accio"

A dressing gown flies down the stairs into Hermione's open hand. She turns to her father as she puts it on. "I'm going right now…you can Floo there; is that okay?" He nods at her. "Great. Can you bring me some day clothes when you come, please?"

This time her mother responds, "We'll be there as soon as we get dressed."

A hand grabs Ron's unbroken arm. He feels the tug and distractedly thinks that he'll probably vomit in front of Hermione.


	8. Light is changing to shadow

**8\. It's a sin that somehow light is changing to shadow.**

 _Actions engender reactions._

Three words, pointing out her guilt. Hermione slid her thumb across the parchment accidently enlarging a smear. The blood was still sticky. Ron's blood…her fault. She should have let the older witch destroy the flowers. Ron paid the price for her indulgence in stupid sentimentality. Control; she has to regain control of her emotions. She can't let them be one more thing in this erratic jumble her life has become. Her supervisor is increasing her work load. She's spending more time putting together the mess that is Luna's experiment; wanting her back. Ron is trying to be a boyfriend, or more. As much as her self-depreciation told her he couldn't possibly, she was beginning to believe he really wanted her; bringing back those feelings. This confused her, she can't have both Luna and Ron; and it muddled her thinking. Also, let us not forget the small problem of Bellatrix.

Just when she'd thought it was under control, she lost Luna. Maybe if she'd helped with the experiment. Now regret makes her try to fix it. Why was she never good enough? She failed Luna further by resurrecting her feelings for Ron. No…she didn't. It was Ron…never wavering. The feelings he brought up weren't the same as those for Luna. Different...with the sense that those feelings could become stronger than what Luna ever evoked. She was certain that the love between two women wasn't necessarily less than that between a woman and a man. But, she was beginning to think that Ron's may be the love she needs; maybe always needed. Then she let the witch come back. She failed, again. Maybe, she really was a lesser being. No; not that. She's just….so…tired of all of this. Maybe…

"Hermione."

She can't do that. Being dead won't stop the witch. Those thoughts don't belong here. Giving in hasn't helped anyone either. There are just more threats, more demands. Like last time, a downward spiral.

"Hermione, look at me!"

The young woman raised her eyes from the parchment. "Mum?"

"How is he?" asked Jean as she sat in the next chair.

"Alive, I think. Fell unconscious when I got here. They took him back." She pointed to a set of double doors. "Th-they wouldn't let me…I-I'm not family…they wouldn't...oh Mum! I don't know…if he…" She fell into her mother's arms, sobbing.

The older woman crooned, "Oh, my baby. I'm here. You don't have to be strong by yourself. You don't have to do it all."

"Sometimes…and it…I have to…his mum and dad…and Harry."

"No, my little Hermione, you don't. Just stay here with me." She scans over to the desk near the doors. "Excuse me, young man."

The bulky blond man shifted in his seat, causing it to creak in protest. "Erm, Nurse Cresswell, madam. How may I help you?"

"Oh, I am Jean Granger; Hermione's mother. You can tell me any information you have on Ronald Weasley's condition."

"I don't have any information. At least you can be fairly confident he has not passed. We would have been told right away."

Thank you. Now sir, have his parents been notified that he is injured?"

"Mum! I can…"

"No. The hospital can. Nurse Cresswell?"

"Madam, we weren't notified who to contact. Miss Granger was distraught and did not respond to our questions. I decided to wait for her to give us instructions."

"That was kind of you. I'm here now to help her. Could you contact Arthur and Molly Weasley? Those are his parents. Their home is called the Borrow. It would be really great if you ask them to inform Harry Potter about Ronald's injuries, too."

"I will, right away, Mrs. Granger."

He quickly hoisted himself up, sending the chair careening with loud squeaks over to the opposite wall. He disappeared down the passageway leading to the Floo room.

"Now to you, young lady. You take these clothes and get dressed before the Weasley's show up."

"Uh…yes mam."

"And clean yourself up; the blood. We don't want Molly to see that."

"Okay." Hermione dropped the wadded parchment in the rubbish bin and reached over for the bag of clothes. "Mum? Why didn't dad come?"

"He didn't think we should leave the house without a front door. Said he would find a way to put it back, temporarily, then come here."

"We could send Harry or Arthur…"

"Hermione, just go change."

"…or I could…"

"Hermione! We are not helpless just because we can't control magic."

"I didn't say that. I just wanted…"

"I know. It's easier; yes. But, I'm not having this discussion right now. Please, just let me be your mother, today. Let him be your father. We need to be here, now; for you. Go change."

"Yes mother."

The young witch walked to the loo, went into a stall and sat down. She was feeling a little less upset. Less feeling of isolation. Mum knows her; knows when she's hurting or stressed. Third year, when she was isolated; sixth year, the Ron-Lavender debacle…Mum knew. She always knew. Christmas break from Hogwarts her last year, even though Hermione wouldn't talk, her mother tried. Lately, Mum had been more attentive. Hermione hadn't been talking about any problems. The anxiety must be showing, though. Well, her mother did know about Luna's accident. Hermione sat slowly entwining her curls into a long braid while forcing even breaths to steel herself for the return to the chairs and the wait for news on Ron.

Leaving the stall, Hermione walked to the sinks. She observed herself in the mirror while washing her face. She looked worn down. Bags under her eyes and hollowing cheeks were telltale signs of her stress level. How had she not noticed? Been so long since she had actually looked at herself. The change; dramatic. No one had said anything. Were the changes so slow? Glamours were not spells that Hermione used. In fact, simple lack of practice meant she didn't know many and she wasn't particularly adept at those. She waved her wand, watching the dark circles brighten up a little. That would have to do, though she still looked run down. Too much improvement would be noticeable too. She quickly changed into the undergarments, jeans and blouse. Checking herself in the mirror one last time, she turned and walked out to the waiting room.

"Hello, Pert. How are you holding up?"

Hermione hurried to her father's open arms. Nestling in she immediately felt the security the embrace imparted to her. His hugs had been a mainstay of her youth. She replied, "Much better now that you and Mum are here."

A voice off to her left spoke up, "Healer Lister said it could have been a close thing because of the blood he was losing."

She looked over to see Harry standing at the double door, hair askew, wearing jeans, tee shirt and trainers with no socks. "You got him here fast enough, Hermione. They're still trying to get the concussion under control. He's bleeding inside is brain."

Hermione moved away from her father, the loss of comfort almost an ache. "Is he going to be all right?"

"The healer wouldn't make any promises. She said that brains are tricky things. Arthur and Molly are with him."

Hermione frowned. "They wouldn't let me back there, before. Why'd they let you in?"

"Because I'm Harry Potter, of course." At her skeptical look, he continued, "Well, that, and Molly insisted I go see Ron with them."

"Of course."

"Hermione, what happened? Did you see who did this?"

Mr. Granger answered, "We were all in bed when the door was blown in. I heard a loud bang and ran down the stairs. There was dust and smoke all over. I didn't see anyone until I looked out the door. Ron was there, lying on the front steps, not moving. Then I saw him breathing. He must've woken up, because when Pert, here, spoke…" He nodded toward his daughter. "…he tried to turn over and push off the ground."

Hermione colored a bit at her father's endearment. "Daaad!" she hissed.

"Well, it's a waiting game now." Harry stated. "Mr. Granger, if it's alright with you, I'd like to pass this information on to Magical Law Enforcement. We'll see if an investigation team can go over to your house."

"Harry, we've been through this before, please, call me Thomas. There might be more problems with an investigation than what you are expecting. I saw the lights on at my neighbor's just before I left. The local police may be there or on their way. I thought my ladies needed me more than the Banicheks needed an explanation, but there's a lot of Ron's blood on the front steps. Should I go back?"

"No sir. I'll request an emergency investigation based on a possible incident involving the Statute of Secrecy. I know it's pushing things a bit, but I don't think we need the non-magical police involved. The locals will stay on it until they reach a resolution; probably not in your favor. I better get moving on this."

Thomas sat down next to Jean. Harry turned towards Hermione. "I'll be right back. I'm sure they won't put me on the investigation team. Too close to the case." He rushed out to the Floo room.

Hermione simply nodded and took a seat next to her father. When he put his arm around her shoulders, she leaned into him, closed her eyes and tried to calm her mind. Her parents discussing some patient treatments morphed into background murmuring behind her discordant thoughts about Luna and Ron.

A raven patronus burst through the double doors soaring to the blond nurse. "Cresswell! Weasley is seizing! His wounds are reopening! Bandages and blood replenisher, now!...no, no…cover the femoral …we're losing…oh...go to Cresswell!

The large man moved with a speed uncharacteristic to his bulk, rushing to a cabinet. Arthur and Molly came out to the waiting room as Cresswell, arms loaded with medical gear, dashed past them. Molly had lines of blood spatter across her chest. Arthur was consoling her as she sobbed.

"Oh my baby boy! Bleeding all over! H-he was screaming your name, Hermione; shouting that you hurt him. How could you?! I don't understand."

"I…I…uh…Dad?"

Her father pulled away and turned to her. "What did you do, Hermione?"

"Dad, I was in bed, y-you saw me come out of my room!" She turned to her mother, who was scowling at her.

Suddenly, the double doors flew open revealing a healer. She walked sadly over to Arthur and Molly.

"I'm sorry; we did all we could but…"

"No…no…no,no,no" Molly backed away, shaking her head. "No…NO!" She whirled to face Hermione. "You killed him!" she yelled, drawing her wand. Arthur quickly grabbed his wife's arms.

"Stop, Molly! You don't want to worry about prosecution. I've sent for the Aurors. She'll be arrested and sent to Azkaban, where she belongs."

The young witch had reached for her wand but the pocket was empty. Looking around she saw it in her mother's hand. "Mum, my wand!"

Jean merely shook her head. "How many more lives do you intend to destroy? Your father, me, Luna and now Ron, all ruined by you. We have to stop this; lock you up."

"Mum! I didn't….Dad?" She turned toward her father, who quickly stood and backed up.

"Please don't touch me, Hermione."

"I…I…didn't do anything! Dad!" Tears dripped from her cheeks.

"Don't lie to us. Have you no shame?"

"The doors leading to the treatment rooms opened again as Nurse Cresswell passed through them. Following behind him was Ron's levitated nude body, his lower half covered in a blood-soaked sheet. Hermione brought a shaking hand to her mouth when she caught sight of his unseeing eyes. She sprinted over and grabbed his limp hand, the bloodied fingers slipping across her palm.

"Oh gods! Ron...please...no. You c-can't be gone! RON!" she wailed. Her bushy hair fell into her face as she dropped to her knees sobbing. His hand tugged against her grasp, his body trying to follow the nurse.

Harry's voice, "Hermione Jean Granger, I have authorization to take you into custody for the murder of Ronald Weasley. Please stand and place your hands behind your back or I will be forced to stupefy you."

She remained on her knees, eyes closed, holding the redhead's hand and moaning, "Please, not Ron…not Ron."

"Last warning, Hermione. Stand up!"

The slippery fingers pulled out of her grip as his body continued its levitating journey behind Nurse Cresswell. She fell forward onto her hands. "No….not true…RON!...NO!...RON!" she screamed feeling the tears dripping from her closed lids onto her arms.

A large hand gripped her shoulder and shook her. "Hermione, get up!"

The opening of her eyes had her looking at the deep brown orbs in her father's concerned face. She swiftly shifted away, shaking, sucking in a deep breath and rapidly looking around. Her mother and Ginny were there watching her.

"Everything's all right, Pert. It was just a dream. Ron is still being treated. As far as we know, he's ok."

"Oh Dad, I…" She collapsed into his open arms, still shaking and weeping. He squeezed her and whispered soothing words. Hermione slowly calmed in his hold, then removed herself from her father's arms. The three women and the man sat together, waiting in silence. Thomas Granger watched his wife, noting her numerous concerned glances toward Hermione.

Harry returned after the brunette witch had moved to a chair away from the others. He walked past Ginny, giving her hand a quick squeeze, to sit next to Thomas Granger and talk about the house.

"Thomas, the Aurors met two policemen at your house. Your neighbors were there also. I know you are uncomfortable about this, but the standard procedure is to obliviate anyone who has seen magic when they weren't supposed to. This got a bit complicated because the police had found the blood and called it in. Seven people had their memories modified; only the parts where they saw or heard about the blood. The emergency call center recordings were erased, too. If we had left the blood report in place, you would likely have been arrested eventually. Your neighbor Ms. Banichek and her teenage sons also had memories removed. Auror Proudfoot repaired your door."

"You minimized the amount of magic used on those people?"

"Our protocols for obliviation are very strict. No changes are made which are not directly related to a breach of the Statute of Secrecy."

"So, how much misbehavior can be performed under that umbrella?"

"Sir, I assure you, I remained there for the memory modification of your neighbors and absolutely nothing was changed that wasn't necessary."

"I am not convinced by the Statute, but I trust you Harry. I really have no choice in this but…

The double doors opened. Everyone turned their attention to them as Arthur walked out and over to Hermione.

"He's awake and talking to his mother. The healer is testing him, but it looks like everything is just fine. Some more blood replenishers and rest at home are all that's needed. Your quick thinking and action are being credited with saving his life. Thank you very much, Hermione."

"Oh, Mr. Weasley, I'm so relieved!"

He turned to Harry. "Harry, Ron said that he is missing a bit of memory, but remembers facing a wizard who said he was Malcolm Avery's brother…the man you and Ron help capture 8 months ago."

"This is some kind of retaliation? Ron was the one who actually took him down. No one was injured except Avery. Nasty piece of work, he was. Two teenage muggles were found tied up in his flat."

"I don't know if it's retaliation. Shouldn't the Aurors investigate?"

"Right, I'll add this information to the investigation of the attack on Mr. Granger's house."

Arthur's eyes widened. "Someone attacked your house, Thomas?"

Mr. Granger stood and walked over to the desk, wiping a hand across his face. "Attack? I don't think so. It looks like Ron was just dumped on our doorstep and the front door was blown in to wake us up. Hermione and I were right at the door after that. An attacker would have had no problem hurting us."

"No." Harry commented. "It's not likely an attack against you, but maybe trying to affect Hermione, too."

Moving toward them, Hermione angrily replied, "Well, he bloody well did that! But why? I didn't do anything to his brother."

"Language, Hermione." Her father said, "This is all speculation based on a fuzzy memory from Ron. It was _**my**_ house and _**my**_ daughter affected by this. I want better assurances than some random name dropped in a groggy conversation to Mummy and Daddy, because this still doesn't make sense. No offense meant, Arthur."

Arthur flinched and blinked. He waved one hand, saying, "None taken Thomas. I would feel the same way if it were Ginny involved; a father's prerogative."

Harry spoke up. "Mr. Granger, we will do a thorough investigation, nothing half-arsed, if I can help it; I promise. I don't want to miss something that could endanger your family."

"Thank you Harry. I know we're not as close to you as the Weasleys but you're like a brother to Hermione."

"I feel the same, sir."

"Hermione! There you are, dear!"

Everyone turned toward Molly Weasley's voice as the woman rushed, arms open wide, toward the young brunette. Hermione skittered back from Molly's advance, her right hand halfway to her wand pocket before she ended the motion. Everyone stopped and stared at the bushy-haired witch for an awkward moment before the Weasley matron spoke.

"Yes; well dear, you're still a bit tense from the night's events. I wanted to thank you for my son's life…didn't mean to frighten you. You saved my boy and I came out to get you. He wants to see you."

Molly tentatively reached her hand out toward the young woman. Hermione clutched her outstretched hand and pulled herself into Molly's arms for a hug.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley. I'm so sorry. I've been tense all night and the relief hasn't registered with me yet."

"That's alright, Hermione, I understand very well. Let's go see Ronald, now."

The two women broke from their embrace and walked to the double doors.

Harry slowly walked over to Jean Granger as she leaned over looking into the rubbish bin. She started when he spoke in a low voice.

"I know I can't ask Thomas, so…um… 'Pert'?

Jean looked over to her husband, who was listening to Arthur. Ginny was putting up with Arthur patting her shoulder as he proudly bragged on her prowess as a Harpy's chaser.

She looked at Harry. "So, you're just trying to get something to take the mick with my daughter?"

He smiled. "What's a younger brother for, if not to humble his older sister?"

She chuckled a moment but her voice turned serious.

"Ok. When Hermione was two, Thomas was completely wrapped around her little finger. He couldn't get enough of her cute way of saying things. So, one day he swung her up in the air and told her what a pretty girl she was. She picked up on that sentence and would run around saying 'I a pert girl; I a pert girl' for the rest of the day. He loved it, so his nickname for her became 'Pert'. He's the only one who uses it and it communicates his deep feelings for her. He didn't call her that for almost a year after our memories were restored, and I thought they were broken for good. During Easter hols, her last year at school, she asked him to go with her one morning. They were gone until late that night. I won't go into where they went or what they talked about, even though he told me. That is their story to tell. When he said goodnight to her, he used that name again. I knew they were back. He won't appreciate it if you make fun."

"It kinda takes the entertainment out of it now that I know the last part. I guess I'll be careful around Thomas but I'm still going to look for an opportunity to harass her about it." He smiled and walked over to Ginny.

Jean saw Thomas excuse himself and turn toward her. She indicated that they should talk in away from the others and strode over to the passageway leading to the Floo room. He caught up with her.

"What's the problem?"

"This." She opened the blood-smeared parchment. "She was lost in thought, looking at this when I got here. I had to call her several times before she responded. She crumpled it up and threw it away when she thought I wasn't looking."

"This note, 'Actions engender reactions', what does it mean? Should we show Harry?"

"I don't know what it means or how she got it. She tried to hide it, so I'm not sure what to do."

Jean mused at how much he was like his daughter as he furrowed is brow before speaking. "If this was written to her, then Ron's attack is more than some criminal trying to get back at him. It also makes more sense that he was dumped at our house. I will get this to Harry, but secretly in case public knowledge can make things worse."

"I don't think we should tell her what we're doing yet either."

"I agree. Let's go back before we're missed."


	9. Use all your well-learned politesse

**9\. Use all your well-learned politesse**

Eacharn Nethery was frustrated. Oddly it was not the usual issues that were causing this particular bout of frustration. Of course those issues would make solving this problem an exercise in creative manpower management.

Necessary ignorance kept his sources from providing the precise information needed to draw accurate conclusions. The Nomás Dikaiós Hodós requirement for secrecy, born from the homicidal persecution of the early times, became an impediment to moving the Path forward much more often than he thought essential. Again, he found himself whispering the Travelers' Truth that active participation did not always result in perceived forward movement. The detailed future was occluded but the fact of the coming conflict was certain.

After the death of his father at the hands of the black ones, he had supported the light in whatever way the Travelers would allow. Others in the organization didn't agree that the Path was best served by assisting the opposition of Voldemort. They thought a single leader could be compelled to turn this nation in a Path-friendly direction. An established subservient population would allow implementing changes more quickly than a free one. Some even advocated assisting in world domination with Nomás Dikaiós Hodós woven into the bureaucracy.

Eacharn supported the Path's leaders who were of the opinion that Nomás Dikaiós Hodós should be in opposition to Voldemort for the twofold reason that the death of so much talent would be wasteful and would result in limited resources for the Path. He supported the light but the deadlock among the Travelers meant approval to provide help came with extreme restrictions. No direct contact. All assistance should be provided in small, seemingly unrelated, bits that under no circumstances could be traced back to the organization. The clues he had provided to lead the old headmaster to the cave were necessarily subtle. A chance meeting with a former orphan and the original 1878 geology survey of the coastline had been enough to push the aged wizard to the right conclusion. It was unfortunate that Dumbledore was murdered and Regulus Black had already removed the locket.

These mishaps weren't without profit, however. They lead to the three. The trio of soul killers predicted so long ago. The current British Mobad ascended to his position by pointing out to the Nomás Dikaiós Hodós Central Committee the alignment of the three to the prophecy. Eacharn was promoted for his part in providing the appropriate data.

Since the utterance of the prophecy, there have been many candidates put forth as fulfillment. Other regions discounted the match of these British young people to the predictions of old. The greatest opponent was the Indonesian Mobad who claimed that they had identified the trio, consisting of a husband and wife along with her younger brother in Vietnam. Those three were breeding a species of dementor that was more powerful at longer distances. The Indonesians had even identified the fourth as a young wizard who assisted them and was the brother's lover. The British representatives still had not traced the predicted fourth in this country. No particular person was correctly aligned with the three in England, yet. Central Committee refused overt action on any of the suspected soul killers until a determination could be made on their exact identity. For now, Britain's Travelers could only monitor the three through whatever assets were available. That meant using members who were not aware of the whole knowledge.

Eacharn was coordinating this effort and it was far from comprehensive. Two years ago, they had no one in Hogwarts. Such a poor amount of information was obtained on Granger that her instability was almost overlooked. The few and conflicting reports from their Hogsmeade assets suggested that she was attacked a number of times but that was highly unlikely. Her name was overheard in connection with an Auror operation involving attacks at Hogwart's but the Traveler in the Law Enforcement offices was not allowed access to the particulars of that mission. The quickly suppressed rumor was that the brunette witch imagined those encounters. After Granger graduated, she showed no overt indications of psychological issues. Still, Eacharn maintains in his reports that she is mentally troubled.

Setting up the monitoring of the other two was severely hampered by their paranoia. Potter would report to Magical Law Enforcement anyone he saw following or observing him more than three times in a week. They would then find themselves under overt observation and Eacharn had to discontinue their operation. It took many months to coordinate a minimally consistent observation team.

Weasley was somewhat easier to watch, but he still found them out occasionally. He simply warned the assets away from him for the first year. Luckily, he thought they were simply hero-worshiping stalkers or reporters. Then Granger left Hogwarts and everything changed. Those assigned to her were inconspicuous in her parents' muggle neighborhood and strategic magical places. However, their lack of training and necessary ignorance of the whole plan left most of the observers prone to make mistakes and Weasley found them. He was not as understanding as before. Several underwent prosecution. Some required hospital visits when they ignored his warning to stay away from her. That left one at the Ministry in a nearby department to watch her and a squib neighbor who had become friends with the elder Grangers. Eacharn had thought it was a stroke of luck to have the Lovegood woman admitted to the mental ward. One of their newer disciples worked there and she agreed to watch Granger and send reports. Of course she agreed; the chaos must be fought against. That the other two-thirds of the trio visited often was also fortuitous.

It was one of these reports that became the cause of Eachart's frustration. It had single simple line describing one of Lovegood's delusions, or so he thought. He had summarized that week's report, included the originals and provided them to the Mobad's assistant to compile the British report for the Nomás Dikaiós Hodós central committee. The original reports were also sent as part of that document. Eacharn now knew that the reports were thoroughly scrutinized and suddenly things were not so simple. The healer was to meet him at this café to talk about her observations.

She was late.

Eacharn looked at the central committee's 'request' again.

/-/-/-/-/ -/-/-/-/

 _Herbology Master Genu Huetja_

 _Nomás Dikaiós Hodós Central_

 _Office of Political Influence_

 _Charms Master Patel Cheswick_

 _Mobad, Nomás Dikaiós Hodós, UK_

 _Mobad Cheswick,_

 _It has come to my attention that someone under your observation has knowledge of an event planned for September of 2001. This should not be possible as the arrangements were kept in the strictest secrecy. The plan is already in motion and would be difficult to stop without raising the suspicions of magical authorities within the United States or the Afghan-Pakistan conglomerate. The importance of the event requires that our organization prevent interference with what we have started. The instability in the Middle East region is essential to setting the non-magical governments into a position amenable to our cause and influence. As you well know, our organization still depends on minimally detectable influence due to our small numbers in the magical and non-magical populations._

 _You must provide a complete account of the information this person has on the events planned for New York City and whether any other events are known to be occurring on that date. If at all possible, the extent of the breach of our security is to be determined and eliminated, if it is enough to threaten our plans. I am aware that the unbelievers who may be privy to this information are high profile persons in the magical society of the United Kingdom. Simply removing them is risky for the secrecy of our organization. Instead, you must find a way to increase their skepticism of the information they have on these events. Exposure of our organization is not an option. I am supported in this by a supermajority of the Nomás Dikaiós Hodós central committee._

 _I envy you in your task of moving the Path forward and the opportunities its successful completion will afford you._

 _Ever respectfully,_

 _Genu Huetja_

/-/-/-/-/ -/-/-/-/

"Hello, I was directed to you by the host when I checked in."

Eacharn stood. "Healer O'Dwyer, Eacharn Nethery; pleased to meet you finally. Your reports on Miss Granger have been very helpful."

"She seems quite nice; she is brilliant, and organized with very high ideals. Have you decided if she will be approached to become a Traveler?"

"Ah, your excitement seems to be overriding your control a bit. It is our control over ourselves that overcomes chaos and moves our personal Path forward."

"It is through control of our personal Paths that the Human Path moves forward." She smiled as she replied with the Fourth Truth.

"Excellent, excellent. You're well versed for a new disciple of only seven months. Most don't advance to beyond the Third Truth for a year or longer."

"Thank you. Of course the first three are given right at the beginning, after all. My self-control was originally honed in my healer training. Still, some of the testing and exercises revealed my limitations and pushed me much further."

"The chaos within life is a constant test of control for self and group." He smiled at her as he waved for the server.

Beth's eyes sparkled with interest. "Is that another truth?"

Eacharn laughed and wagged his finger at her. "That, my dear, is a secret. Eagerness unbounded is another loss of control."

"Oh, of course." The healer entwined her fingers on the table top and drew a cleansing breath to calm herself. "So Eacharn, what is this meeting about?"

The Scottish wizard held up his hand to her as a young muggle woman approached.

"May I take your order?" she said.

Beth quickly picked up the menu card lying on the table in front of her.

Eacharn turned to the waitress. "Yes. A medium caramel iced coffee with cream and sugar and an orange-cranberry scone and some butter to go with it, please."

The woman turned to Beth. "And for you?"

"One of your 'eye-opener' hot teas; milk and sugar on the side. The blueberry scone is more my speed. I'll have that with orange marmalade, please."

"It will be my pleasure."

Eacharn reached up and touched the server's elbow. When she turned toward him he passed her a twenty-pound note. "Our meeting here is open ended and I don't want to cause problems, but we may be here a while, so….for any tips you might miss."

Her eyes widened. "Yes sir. Thank you." She walked away.

He spoke to Beth. "She will be back within ten minutes with our order. I want to understand Miss Granger's interaction with the mental patient she is visiting. Please spend this time organizing your recall of all the conversations you heard from June 29th to the present. I believe there was a particular delusion that Miss Lovegood had which became the focal point of their meetings. I am interested in how Miss Granger handled the direction that delusion was taking and the level of control she had over the situation. I do not want your interpretation of her actions. Please stay with recitations of the conversations and categorization of emotions exhibited. We will talk after our food is on the table."

She didn't reply since it was not required. Eacharn leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Eleven minutes later the waitress placed his scone in front of him and he opened his eyes to smile at her. The rest of the order was distributed and organized. Eacharn thanked the server and dismissed her by looking over at Beth. She left them.

He spoke as he removed a notepad and pen from his pocket, "Mrs. O'Dwyer?"

"Well, there were only three meetings from June 29th to the one two days ago. So…"

"Beth," he spoke softly, "Please give me what I requested. Editorial comments are neither needed nor wanted. Control…only provide that which fulfills the need. Also, this is not a formal interrogation. Please enjoy your tea and scone as you provide the information requested." He smiled at her. "I guarantee, I will not forgo consuming this delicious coffee simply because this is a business meeting"

The healer smiled back, picking up her scone. "I will…and thank you for the guidance. June 29th, Luna spoke of some buildings in a photograph of the New York skyline. She said she remembered them collapsing from airplanes striking them. According to her memory, terrorists had taken over the airplanes and purposely flew them into the buildings. She remembered it from 10 years ago when she was a child. Luna did not specify the political or religious alignment of the terrorists and Hermione did not ask or speculate. Luna seemed upset and frightened. Hermione expressed skepticism at first but was willing to investigate when Luna promised to provide predictions that would occur sooner."

"Did Luna claim to be a seer?"

"The conversations I heard did not include speculations in that direction. That is all I have from June 29th concerning the attack on the buildings. I did hear them discussing Hermione's connection with Luna. Hermione expressed her love for Luna and described that they had been lovers before the accident that put Luna in St. Mungos. Luna did not remember this and expressed that she was not inclined to be Hermione's lover."

"This may be relevant if it influences Miss Granger's reaction to Miss Lovegood's delusion. For now, concentrate on anything involving the delusion itself."

Beth watched him write, catching a glimpse of odd symbols on the paper, before she continued.

"On July 6th, I was busy with…"; she paused at his stare. "Luna spoke of a muggle child, a girl, who was kidnapped and killed a month before Luna's birthday. When she expressed her wish that she'd accepted her memories earlier to save the girl, Hermione stated that the buildings were more important and they had to find a way to convince the Americans. They were both quite distressed at the girl's death but Hermione pushed Luna to move beyond it. Hermione said she would check "these predictions" this week.

"When is Luna's birthday?"

"February 13th. But they spoke as if the little girl's fate wasn't known yet."

"Miss Lovegood's problem is centered around her memories, as your reports stated. In fact, she originally thought she was someone else. Do you know that person's birthday?"

"I do not."

"You heard nothing of the other predictions?"

"I did not, but I saw Hermione reading a small parchment when she was leaving the ward."

"The killing of the muggle girl appears to be prediction by Miss Lovegood. Miss Granger also has more predictions from her. My first thoughts are that Miss Granger is supporting Miss Lovegood in her claims. The expression of strong emotions by both of them suggests Miss Granger is accepting the claims as true. It is possible that she is controlling the situation in this manner so that a psychological breakthrough can occur. Tell me about July 13th."

"They did not speak about the buildings or the predictions at any time I was within earshot. Luna was very distressed about something and required consoling by Hermione most of the night. The only thing possibly related to it was Hermione saying that she hopes 'it doesn't happen but everything points to the truth of it.' I didn't include that in my report, because I didn't see the predictions as anything except a false memory by Luna."

"You have again provided extraneous information. Do not let your excitement about a potential new disciple influence your responses. I recommended your promotion to the Fourth Truth based on the exemplary organization you have developed in your reports and the high praise from your mentor. Was I mistaken?"

"I am not in a position to judge your decision, nor your view of my readiness. I am concerned that the concentration on Hermione's response to a particular manifestation of Luna's illness is more about the prediction of the destroyed buildings than Hermione's fitness for the Traveler discipline."

Eacharn noted the concern on the healer's face and returned it with a grim expression.

"Healer O'Dwyer, you show concern for Miss Granger as if you were her mentor. She is not a disciple and may never be asked to join us. Furthermore, if she were to be asked, she would not necessarily become **your** disciple. Others are observing her for us as well. I understand your strong desire to see a person of such obvious talent and notoriety be added to our fold. However, it is that very notoriety that demands a greater understanding of who she is before we can move forward with an invitation. Do not overstep or presume you have knowledge which you do not. While I appreciate your skills as an observer and reporter, I cannot allow these noted lapses in your control to go unreported. Your mentor shall receive a message detailing these. She will determine the type and extent of your retraining."

"Mr. Nethery, please accept my apologies for my neglect in my own training. I appreciate that you think highly enough of me to provide my mentor with the request that she administer required correction."

He softened at her contrite acceptance of his censure. "Beth, we are moving toward a determination of Miss Granger's compatibility with our order. There are some items in her past and some observations of her behavior now which lend themselves to further scrutiny. Rest assured her homosexual behaviors are not an issue in any way. Her understanding the need to direct her path and that of the human race and her capability to conform to our standards are the only things judged in this. However, for her they must be more thoroughly understood than the usual because her unique place in Britain's wizarding community will allow her significant influence over this society. Your patience is key to your reports remaining the valued asset that we have come to expect from you."

"Thank you, Mr. Nethery."

"You're welcome. Now I am asking for speculation on your part based on your interactions with Miss Granger and what you have observed of her interaction with Miss Lovegood. Is Miss Granger in control of the situation regarding the predictions or has she allowed the relationship with Miss Lovegood to dictate her reactions to the claims of a mental patient?"

"I believe that Hermione is in control of the situation. She has consistently guided Luna throughout the investigation of her memories and treatment of her behaviors. She has gained Luna's trust and dependence when it comes to decisions on treatment. I have no idea whether or not Hermione is investigating these predictions. I have no indication that she believes them to be true beyond her interactions with Luna. She has not mentioned them to me. What I do know is that her approach to Luna has not changed despite her apparent concern over the predictions. She continues her attempts to bring back Luna's true memories. As a mental health healer, I consider that action to be the greatest evidence that Hermione is only humoring Luna in her belief that a disaster is going to occur next year."

"Hermione has not lost sight of her goal despite the new direction Miss Lovegood's case has taken….in your opinion."

Beth folded her arms across her chest. "Hermione has remained steady on the course she has taken in bringing Luna Lovegood back to a normal state of mind."

With a slight upturn on the corners of his lips, Eacharn stood. "Mrs. O'Dwyer, I appreciate your candor and your recall of this invaluable information. I will include your opinion of Miss Granger's capabilities in my report this week. I hope you enjoyed your tea and scones, but I must be going. I will handle the bill on my way out. Good day to you."

"Good day, Eacharn. I hope to meet again soon."

Eacharn nodded and turned toward the host station. He waved their server to him and supplied enough muggle money to pay the bill and include a significant tip. As he reached the door, he looked back at their table to see Healer O'Dwyer gathering her belongings in preparation to leave. She had a calm, almost serene look on her face. He turned and exited the café.

Nothing was better except the fact that a security breach within Nomás Dikaiós Hodós was highly unlikely. Unfortunately, he didn't know how much Lovegood **did** know. She knew about the attack planned for the buildings and, based on the apparently correct predictions made on July 6th, she realized that her prediction for September of 2001 was also correct. Did she know that the Travelers are involved? Did she know that the Travelers planned the attack?

The extent of Lovegood's knowledge of events must be extracted from her. There were Travelers capable of Legilimency but entering a mentally ill person was risky. Also, there was the risk of exposure if the person under such a spell were to gain awareness of the Travelers during the process.

No, Eacharn will use hired labor for this. The hiring occurred through back alley transactions that didn't require knowledge of the persons paying for the job. Money was the only thing necessary. The people he had in mind were less concerned than the Travelers regarding the comfort of the person being questioned. They will need to remove Lovegood from St. Mungo's and employ the means necessary to determine Lovegood's source of information about the attacks and the extent of her knowledge. It would not be pleasant for her, but he cannot risk the Travelers in any way. His only concern was that she was the fourth that would join the trio in fulfillment of the prophecy.

As he walked to the local apparition point, he recited the Truth that pain for an individual is acceptable to move the Travelers along the Right Path. He hoped that Lovegood would survive this inquiry but accepted that her life was expendable in the face of gaining control of the chaos and winning the coming conflict. The world and human race were at stake.


	10. And if loving her is

**10\. And if loving her is…Is heartache for me.**

Ron looked over to the brunette and, despite his worry, smiled. She was so intense. Her fixation on solving the puzzle was animating her face with expressions running the gamut from puzzlement to delight. However, they came in too-brief flashes within her pretend emotionless state. He knew just how false the façade she presented was. Before now she never tackled a research project with anything but excitement which lit up her eyes and energized her movements. This new show of stoic resolve was a thin veneer covering the sadness and fear that peeked out during the infrequent times when she let her guard down; those times that Ron saw all too clearly. He thought she wasn't acting rationally. She was putting on this front, even with him, despite his role as the one she trusted to hold and calm her after the attacks by the witch. Regardless of Harry's concerns, Ron still believed there was a witch. If her behavior deteriorated much further, he would have to confront her with their knowledge about those attacks. Thankfully, there hadn't been any since the night Harry recorded her.

Hermione turned toward him and gave small thin smile back while quirking one eyebrow up. Ron realized that his quick glance had become a bit more. His attempts at restoring burnt and rent sheets of the experiment log had halted in favor of observing her movements. He had watched her copy three pages of restored notes, and reference five different books, some twice. All the while, she filled in the holes of the copied notes with her educated guess of information that best matched the note's context and Luna's writing style. From her reaction, she obviously noticed his extended watching. Ron decided to address this right away; sort of.

"I was watching you work…erm, doing the research….on the notes. I mean,…how much it takes to just fill in a few lines. Look at all those books you have. You had to get up several times to get one from your room. That's a lot of time getting references."

"Yes. Well, that's where we put all of the books Luna had in her lab bookshelf. She was probably referencing them during her experiments. I've gotten quite a bit done without any other references. Luna was very good at determining what was needed and keeping it close by. What is your problem with my reference material?"

"No; look Hermione, I have no problem at all with the material. You have always been great at research and using reference books. It's just that…well…it seems really inefficient. You're much faster in a library, near all the books."

"What do you suggest? That we take this project to Hogwarts' library? I think your potion application and charm work would put Madam Pince off her game a bit, don't you?"

"That's not what I mean! Ugh! Can't we come up with a way to get what we need a little faster? Look here." He pointed at her work material. "You have these books right here and in your room upstairs, but you still have missing places in the notes. You even said earlier that you needed to go to the library. You knew what you needed but couldn't get it until tomorrow or even later than that."

"Look Ron, I spoke to you about this. It's going to take time. The notes and log are greatly damaged. The notes we can get are incomplete with holes all throughout. The experiment log is worse. If you're upset by how slow this is, then all I can say is that you knew about it before you stepped in. It's confusing; we knew that. It's hard work; we knew that. Luna is going to be no help; we knew that too. So, you just want to walk away? Then walk and stop whinging about it! I can keep going by myself. I'm perfectly capable of picking…"

"Hermione, I never said anything about quitting. I don't see how you could think that about me…not anymore. I should have known this wouldn't come out right. It's a bit of a niggling in the back of my brain. I feel like I'm seeing something….just on the edge of my reach. Just a way, some way to…help you research. You have this big pile of notes that you copied from the papers I've restored, but the holes still have to be filled. Not just that, 'cause you have this other pile of restored pages. When there are too many, I copy them for you, but that just makes the copied pile bigger. It's not any faster even when I help. There's a way, to make it easier to do the tedious stuff; to go faster, I can tell. I'm getting this idea on how. S'not something I can put in words yet. It's a feeling; the same one I had the other night when Harry and I… um…well."

"When you and Harry did what?"

"Er…when Harry and I investigated a robbery and confiscated a lot of artifacts that had to be categorized and returned. That was slow work too. Lots of research in parchment records and crime reports. They were in different departments of the Ministry, we had to run around to each one. Even though we hurried, one of the departments was closed and we had to wait until the next day."

"People can't stay at the library or those departments 24 hours a day. Records and research information can't be available all the time. Even in the muggle world, where they use computers to store those things, you can't get to everything. In wizarding society, there's not even that. It's the way things are right now."

"I wonder…." Ron looked down and started fiddling with the charred parchment in front of him, not really seeing it. He picked at the blackened parts and crumbled some into ash.

"Ron! Stop it! You're destroying her notes. What if important clues were on that piece?"

"Wha?…oh, sorry. Hermione, these computer things, they're electric, right? Do they move around, like train engines and collect the records for you? I've seen them at the muggle library, they don't look very big. How do they get into the places where the records are?"

She replied while looking back at her reference book. "They don't actually move. They get the records from other computers electronically and show them on the computer screen; the part that looks like a telly…like pictures of the documents."

"Like pictures…electric pictures?" Ron started waving his hands around in his excitement. "If I want electric for a fan or toaster, I have to have a…you know…a hole in the wall with electric in it.

"A socket." Hermione provided sharply.

Ron hesitated noting her irritation. "Yeah, ok. Um…so, how do they get the records without going to the record storing places? You said they can't get to everything. Why can't they get to all the records?"

Setting the large reference tomb heavily onto the table, the young witch huffed, "So, have we stopped working to talk about computers?" She tossed the quill down beside the book. Turning to face him, she plopped her elbows on the table and set her chin in her palms. "Fine! I'm not doing anything important. So, let's take off on this intellectual pursuit. I'm all yours Ron. Every last vestige of my vast muggle computer knowledge is at your disposal. Please, ask away."

Ron immediately deflated and rubbed his palm across his eyes. "Look, I don't think you're being fair and that hurts. You're really touchy tonight; what's wrong? I didn't mean to stop. I let myself get distracted. I'll get right back at it…really…I will. I was just trying to make interesting conversation while we worked. Well, that and, like I said, I'm bothered by how long it takes to research simple things."

"These are not simple things. Luna succeeded in activating the rune. That's something that hasn't happened in over 150 years, and it looks like all the previous successes were poorly documented and possibly not planned. Luna is a genius! What she has done is anything but simple; which you would know if you just paid attention for once!" Hermione sat up, eyes wide, quickly putting her hand over her mouth. She turned away from him.

"Hermione, that was uncalled for. I did pay attention and I know it's complicated. I wasn't just talking about…."

She held up her hand, stopping him mid-sentence. She turned to face him, eyes glistening.

"Ron, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. You've been nothing but helpful in all of this and I haven't even once expressed the gratitude you deserve. I'm trying….I am, but the pile is huge and getting bigger. I've hardly done anything to prepare for the Antarctica trip. This never-ending task, copying the notes and log, researching, filling in the holes, guessing half the time; it's burying me. I'm worried about how you were attacked; could have died. These questions about computers were distracting and happened at the right time to infuriate me. So, I took out my frustration on you. Please, will you…forgive me?

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and released it slowly. A slow reply was risky, might indicate insincerity, but he had to calm himself. He looked directly into her brown eyes and grasped her hands. She gripped him back and he watched her release a held breath.

"Hermione, of course I forgive you. As much as we've been through together, and what we're going through, I expect our tempers will get the better of us sometimes. It's tough on you because you and Luna are such close friends, I know. I understand. Listen to me now. I'm here…with you. I'm here…taking on the challenges with you…for you. I'm staying; and to stay together through this, we both must be willing to offer forgiveness. So I give you mine and I'll do everything I can to be worthy of yours."

"Thank you, Ron." She whispered and squeezed his hands tightly. He released her and she moved back, wiping her face.

"To answer your question, computers can be connected together all over the world. It's like the Floo network. The computers can talk to each other like you can floo your parents from here. Also, just like the Floo, where you can't go to a house that's not connected, computers can't talk to computers that aren't connected. Does that help?"

"Yes, it does. I think my curiosity about computers is over for now. Thanks." He noticed her closing off again; her attempt to be emotionless. He spoke up, "I guess we should get to work now. Are you ready to start again?"

"I am. Let's get back to it."

He watched for the completion, her shutdown of the outward show of any feelings. Then she smiled at him as she picked up her notes. A small smile triggering passions that washed through him with the surprise he felt. His breath hitched but he hid it with a returning smile and a quick move back to the blackened experiment log. Maybe she'll be more open tonight.

After reading for a bit, she spoke. "Looks like we've moved to tests she ran with mixing a potion solution to coat the rune."

Ron looked up. "What?"

"Tests with a coating painted on the rune. It's in the research notes, indirectly. There's a record describing the rune after the last wizard to use it was killed attacking some muggle sheriff in Alabama USA. They couldn't talk to him but the Lawkeepers' report said the pendant was dark red."

He smiled. "The tin, gold and antimony mix is like brass. So, Luna figured it was painted. Why paint it though?"

"Perhaps these pages will tell us that. Looking at the last page you recovered, here…there are some references to records showing ingredients used and she's listed them. It's a bit haphazard though; some ingredients are from a wizard's notes in 1483 and others from different years, even different centuries."

Shifting his attention to the pages he was recovering, Ron commented, "I've still got these two pages. Anyway, the second page is mostly recovered now. These pages have her changing the potion that is infused into the rune; she says she figured out what she was doing wrong the other times. A sentence here is showing she needed to add a blood mixture into the formula just before putting it on the rune."

"Right. Her own blood, probably. That's the most likely and it personalizes the rune for her."

"There's a part about mixing the blood with another ingredient. I don't have it all. The page has some holes…it's missing. I have the last letters, um… 'ing' and then 'f'."

"Let me see it." Hermione moved to stand beside him. He pointed to the letters on the page.

She exclaimed, "Lacewing flies? That could be. It's used in polyjuice as a binder to the human biological ingredients. I can't think of any other binders with that combination of letters. Do you think it's powdered? That would mix it better with the blood."

"Don't know. You got the NEWT in potions. We learn recipes in Auror training, not theory."

"How much blood does it say? Wait, I mean what ratio of blood to lacewing flies?"

"Towards the bottom, she writes about 'mix runs' and then it says '….er one at…fer set….30 grams with 3 gr' , but that doesn't mention blood. I can't tell which to which."

"10 to 1, blood to powdered flies by weight. The flies are always the minority ingredient and potions are always done by weight of ingredients." she said, writing in her notebook. "I should look in some potion books for mixing instructions. I want to be sure. You have to admit Luna was very meticulous."

"Yeah. She's always a surprise." He stretched his arms. "The class books at Hogwarts had many ways of measuring ingredients. They didn't always use weight. The Auror potion recipes have weights if building from scratch but used water or other liquid volume when mixing the kits."

"The dry ingredients in the kits would already be measured, wouldn't they? Liquid ingredients would have a certain weight for a specific volume, or close enough, so measuring volume is just as good. In the NEWT courses, we moved toward weight-only measuring in sixth year and, in seventh, that was the only method used."

Ron stood. "So, I guess we put together a recipe for the paint next. It'll be nice change."

"Yes, it will, but not yet. We have to fill in the missing notes from these six pages first. You can copy the recovered pages and I'll do the book work."

"Yes ma'am! Ron the research-assistant-slash-notes-transcriber at your service!" he replied, standing at attention and grinning so she wouldn't think he was complaining.

Hermione rolled her eyes while revealing a small smile. She retrieved her quill and book from earlier, let out a slow relaxing breath and returned to her work.

The next half hour or so they both concentrated on their tasks. The atmosphere in the room was lighter than before. Each would occasionally make a small comment or voice their satisfaction at completion of a problematic section.

Hemione suddenly sat up and reached for her jeans pocket. Ron stopped and glanced up at her.

She held up a galleon coin. "That's my mum. She wants me to phone her. Since I'm inside these wards or those at the Ministry a lot, the phone won't work. I'm going outside to call her.

He stood and stretched. "I'll take a break too, hit the loo. Then I'll go to the kitchen and put together something for us to snack on. We missed tea."

"You mean you'll ask Kreacher to make something for you."

Ron put his hand on his chest, feigning offense. "I'd make sure you got something, too! Besides, you know Kreacher gets upset if we don't call on him."

She simply waved him to the door while shaking her head. They split up at the hallway and he headed toward the loo at the back of the house. After finishing up, he took a detour on his way to the kitchen to look out the front windows. Hermione was on the front walk, pacing along the path and speaking into the phone at her ear. At the kitchen, Ron opened the pantry and was immediately greeted with a crack of apparition.

"The hero Ronald Weasley does not like Kreacher's cooking. He makes his own food, instead."

"Kreacher, I didn't want to bother you if you were busy with something important…and quit calling me 'hero'. You can call me 'Ron' or, if you must, 'Master Ron'."

"Master Ron should know that serving is the most important thing for Kreacher. Master Harry Potter has said that Kreacher is to serve Master Ron and the hero Hermione Granger just like Kreacher serves Master Harry Potter. Master Ron is insulting Kreacher by not requesting food."

"Ok. Please accept my apology, Kreacher. It would please me greatly if you prepare some of your delicious shrimp and chicken sandwiches. This is not your day off, is it."

Kreacher started pulling ingredients from the pantry. "Ron's apology is accepted. Kreacher's day off is on Thursday. Will the two masters be eating in the kitchen?"

"We will be eating in the lab. So, could you cut the sandwiches up small, like snacks? Hermione and I are trying to finish something up before we stop tonight. I would like to take it to her myself."

"The hero Hermione Granger will know that Kreacher cooked the food." The old elf donned a smirk as he looked sidelong at the redhead.

"Trust me, Kreacher, she already knows."

With Kreacher at the cutting board, Ron entered the pantry and picked out some tea bags. When he turned around, he was confronted by a scowling elf holding a long knife above a cooked chicken breast. He cautiously set the tea on the counter and moved to a seat at the table.

"Erm…sorry, Kreacher."

Sitting there watching the efficient actions of the cook, Ron thought back to the attack that put him in the hospital. He remembered the blond hair and hooked nose of his attacker. The rest of his features were indistinct. The voice was higher pitched and the inflections were odd. The name 'Avery' and the words 'brother' and 'arrested' were clearly annunciated but the rest of words remained unclear. In fact, the entire incident was fuzzy, the words, the surrounding scenery and the person himself. The healer said the lack of clarity is not unusual when a concussion is involved. That would be understandable if all of his memories between the concussion and waking up at St. Mungos were fuzzy. The problem is that Ron can remember every detail from the time he woke at the Granger's doorstep to the apparition to the hospital. The door against the wall of their front room, Thomas Granger's leather slippers, Jean Granger's blue terry robe with the green nightgown showing at the top, Hermione's baby blue sleeveless top and her gasp when she recognized Ron were all crisply in his memory. So very clear, while mere minutes before that were murky. Strange.

Kreacher set the tray in front of him and bowed slightly. "Enjoy your meal, Master Ron."

Ron took the tray across to the stairwell and ascended. He called out as he neared the lab door.

"Kreacher made his special shrimp and chicken sandwiches along with sliced cucumbers. We have tea too."

He turned to enter the room and heard Hermione speak to him.

"They found the girl today." she said. "Mum says it was on the telly news. The police reckon she was killed on the same day she went missing; maybe a day after."

Her voice stopped Ron on his way in the lab door. She was sitting at the lab table. He saw tear tracks on Hermione's cheeks. As she finished speaking, fresh droplets were falling on the tabletop. The news confirmed Luna's memories, but deeply affected the woman he loved. Ron closed the distance between them, set the tray on the table, and placed his hand on her back. He felt her stiffen from the touch.

"Then there's nothing you could've done when you found out about it."

She hastily stood, twisting away from his hand, pacing a few steps and flinging her hands in the air. "I know…I know…I know! I know! I know!" Throwing her hands down, she stomped her foot. "I thought I was in control, but telling you just brought it out of me again. What kind of filthy evil piece of human refuse does such a thing?" She spun to face the table, pulling her wand in a smooth movement. "I just want to find the person who did this and slice their legs off! Reducto!"

Ron jumped to the side as the chair just feet from him splintered into dust swirling to pile against the wall. Recovering from his surprise, he turned back to her as she continued.

"What's wrong with me? I know it's tragic, but I shouldn't feel like this…this horrible hopelessness.", she started rambling, throwing her hands up as she continued pacing. "It's like my sister died, not someone I don't even know. Was it because I knew before it happened? But everything's affecting me. I want to cry over the simplest things...losing my wand…this morning, mismatching my clothes. I'm not able keep it in." She displayed her shaking hands to Ron. "See?! I can't even stop it now."

Seeing her break down spurred Ron to move forward and grab those hands. Her continued shuddery breathing prompted him to pull her into a hug. She resisted, pushing his hands away.

"Shhh; breathe Hermione." His Auror training allowed him to quickly overcome her attempts to avoid him.

"Ron. Please; you shouldn't. Not anymore."

"Not happening, love. This helps. It always has helped so I see no reason to give it up now. I promised to be here for you, and I will. Besides, you aren't the only one needing comfort." he said as he pulled her to him. Knowing his closeness was already having an effect, he unhurriedly moved her to the sofa and sat down.

"I-I'm so sorry, I can't give… I'm not able to…" her voice trailed off.

"Hermione, it doesn't matter. We'll worry about what we can do some other time. I didn't make a bargain with you. I made a promise _to_ you and I fulfill that promise not so I can get something _from_ you, but because it is _my_ promise."

Hermione's sniffles turned to heaving sobs at his pronouncement. She gripped his shirt, pulling herself into his chest and fully giving in to her pain. Confused, he tightened his hug and slowly ran his fingers through her hair.

"Oh, love, what is happening to you?" Ron whispered, tears springing to his eyes. She didn't seem to hear him.


	11. Worryin 'bout the way things might

**11\. Worryin' 'bout the way things might have been.**

The bright sunshine lit the conservatory as Narcissa tiredly looked westward, out over the gardens. White peacocks lounging under the closest fruit trees sent her thoughts to her absent husband. He had insisted that they pattern their gardens after those of English nobility. Of course, there should be peacocks and guinea fowl. She unconsciously brought up her hand, drawing her fingers across her collar bone. The sensation moved her further into her reverie of him. His touch so delicate when they were together. She shook her head to dispel the thoughts and slow her breathing. He couldn't enjoy those things now; neither the birds nor her. She hadn't felt that touch since his first trip to Azkaban following the prophecy debacle. Tom Riddle had broken him after that, removed all his pride and self-respect. Then he had remained in Ministry custody until his trial and immediately transferred to the prison afterward. His last letter spoke of poor food and long bouts of inactivity, along with the usual request that she remain strong. She always thought his entreaty was a bit silly in light of her comfortable home and his damp prison cell in the middle of the North Sea. He still followed the old chauvinistic ways although he had reconsidered his pureblood bias. So had she. At least her husband had shown bravery at the end. He didn't run like so many others. Instead he asked Draco and Narcissa to stay with him and help with the immediate needs of others at Hogwarts after the battle. Then they voluntarily turned themselves over to the Aurors. Draco and she were released a week later when the Ministry accepted Lucius' full confession of wrongdoing.

Weary from today's events, Narcissa pondered her circumstances. The surprise house elf inspection by DRCMC was completely unwarranted. They claimed someone reported abuse at a tea she hosted last weekend. Only five women were there and none would have made that report. This was completely trumped up. They wanted to conduct in depth interviews with all six of her elves on a day that they knew she was preparing for her son to come home. She allowed them into the manor. She had no choice with the current political climate, and it chafed. The Malfoy matriarch gathered the elves and swore on her wand that they were required to speak the truth to the enforcement wizards. Then the embarrassment began as the interviews were conducted consisting of the most intrusive questions they could think of. After all, she had been without sex for more than 2 years and she was only 45. She'd taken things in hand on occasion. Denlass, her personal attendant, had accidently caught her a few times. The interviewers homed in on that subject in front of the others. The elf answered every question honestly, as she was told to do, but was in tears at the end. The elves were all so upset that Narcissa gave them the night off. As they were leaving, the interviewers laughed about her humiliation, and commented on how their coworkers and her son would enjoy the report from this inspection. The pendulum had truly swung and rights were being trampled, again. Narcissa wasn't worried about being charged. Her concern was the replacement of one tyranny with another.

She turned from the garden. In that action, she buried her worry and her shame. Her beautiful boy was coming home from LE Academy as the top graduate. He would move on to Auror training which made her and Lucius proud. His father sent a long letter to Draco detailing all the times throughout his life that his son had made him happy. At the end of the letter, Lucius apologized for his mistake in following Voldemort and asked Draco to forgive him. She had received a copy of the letter but Narcissa didn't care about all that. Not right now. Draco would be home this evening and she could dote on him until lunch tomorrow and then the rest of the weekend afterward. She smiled as she turned for her walk to the Floo entrance. The smile disappeared when she hurried past the drawing room; even the magical sealing charms couldn't keep the smell inside completely. Bellatrix had destroyed it after recovering from her master's attentions following the Potter escape. The burnt-out shell of the space, floor collapsed into the basement below, remained the same to this day. Draco insisted that he must be responsible for the restoration. Construction would start at a date that only he knew. He said his restoration of the family's place in society would be the marker for recovery of the room. Narcissa squelched those unnecessary thoughts as she moved to the main hall. Picking up the Potions Quarterly she headed for the Floo fireplace anticipating the article on ancient talisman metallurgy. The white loveseat molded to her form as she leaned back into it. She could sit and read until he arrived.

"Mother?"

Narcissa started awake to see the smiling face of her son. Draco moved his hand from her shoulder and pulled the periodical from her lap. He looked at it and smirked.

"Who needs Dreamless, when you have discussions of metallurgy? This stuff could induce narcolepsy."

"Those of us with sufficient knowledge, find it fascinating, I'll have you know." she replied, yawning.

"Yes, of course…fascinating", he laughed.

He was suddenly engulfed in a smothering hug.

"Oh Draco! I'm so proud of you!" She pushed him out to arm's length. "And so handsome in your uniform! Even with all the trouble, you did so well."

"What trouble? Who told you I had trouble?"

"I still have contacts in the Ministry; people who were somewhat neutral during the war. I was told that you suffered injuries."

"Yes. Injuries in training are not uncommon."

"Injuries that were not part of training. That and prejudicial treatment."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing. I could do nothing for you. I'm imprisoned in this house and my contacts are only information sources. I wouldn't ask them to enact some kind of retribution. I can't even go anywhere for another year, not even my own son's graduation."

"What you were told, about my treatment, I am asking you to do nothing about those things….ever. Please, mother."

"Of course, I wouldn't resort to violence. There are other ways. We still wield financial influence. I have names, families we can affect."

"Please, mother. As the affected party, I have forgiven all the wrongs against me. I request that the Malfoy family accept that as forgiving wrongs against the Malfoy name."

"This goes against…my pride as a Black."

"Pride like Aunt Bellatrix?"

"That's unfair; she was deranged. Still, I am your mother. I am compelled to protect my son!"

"Vengeance is not protection. This cannot happen. I can't do what I have sworn to do while I am an Auror, if I am tainted by a revenge scandal. I will not be trusted and I must maintain trust."

"Vengeance can provide a deterrent, which is a form of protection. However, as the current head of the Malfoy family, I extend your forgiveness toward those who have wronged you to include wrongs against the Malfoy name."

"Thank you, Mother. Now, I am famished. What are we having for tea?"

"I am having the four-course Coc-au-Vin flooed in from Montmartre's."

"Montmartre's? Is Selit unwell? He usually loves to cook for me when I come home."

"I gave all the elves the night off. It is just us."

"As long as there isn't a problem, that would be wonderful, Mother. I'm sure I will enjoy the tea."

Draco crooked his arm and held it out to his mother. She smiled and moved beside him. Her son has become a man and a gentleman. He makes decisions that show he has risen above the difficulties of his youth. He was better, stronger than his father…..better, stronger than her.

She lifted her chin and walked with a pride she had not felt in a long time.

"I have planned a tea for tomorrow afternoon, for your homecoming. Eight families have replied that they will celebrate with us."

"Indeed! There are that many families that will associate with us?"

"We have come to an understanding. Despite our differences, we all remain socially ostracized from mainstream wizarding society because the side we chose lost the war. We may as well stand together."

"It sounds like a fragile peace."

"No, not really. Our families are reaching out to others who are being ostracized, to help when necessary. You know that a number of family heads were sent to Azkaban, leaving their assets and businesses in disarray. We work together to bring back the prosperity of these families. We draw strength from each other. Audura Greengrass and I came up with the idea together. We brought in the Parkinsons and the Goyles at first since both their fathers are in Azkaban."

"Interesting. I thought Lord Greengrass had not aligned with the Dark Lord. He wasn't a Death Eater."

"No, Reynold even joined Aberforth and the second wave of attackers during the Hogwarts battle."

Draco looked over at her with one eyebrow raised. "I didn't know that. That was a good choice of allies. Ah, I see the meal has arrived. Bonsoir, monsieur Montmartre."

A stocky man with a greying goatee was moving quickly to catch up with them. Behind him were several covered trays suspended midair and moving at his pace.

"Bonsoir, mes amis. I shall have your meal on the table and be out of your way in but a moment Madam Malfoy. I have chosen the Pino Grigio of recent vintage for the informal dining." He smiled. "And it pairs well with the raspberry dessert."

The elder man continued past them to enter the room ahead. They could hear him setting the floating trays on the large table, arranging the containers for easy reach near their place settings. They passed through the doorway to see him placing a yellow rose in a vase. Turning to Narcissa, he flourished the wine bottle. She nodded and he swiftly removed the cork, followed by pouring a half glass each for the two diners. Placing the bottle in a tabletop cooling bin, he bowed to the Malfoy matriarch.

"By your leave, Madam?"

"Certainment, mon ami. The food looks excellent and impeccably arranged as always. Thank you."

"Je vous en prie", he replied, touching his jawline with the fingertips of his right hand and inclining his head slightly to them both. He strode from the room to Floo back to the west side of London.

Draco moved to the table and pulled out her chair. "Madam, your repast awaits."

"Thank you, son." She sat and assisted him in adjusting the chair. He moved to his chair, sat and lifted his glass.

"To you, for believing in and supporting me in my quest to reestablish the Malfoy prominence."

She raised her glass and nodded her head in acceptance of the toast. They both drank and she wrinkled her nose at the wine. It needed to breathe longer.

Draco busied himself dishing the first course to their plates, hers first as was customary. He had always considered Coc-au-Vin to be too dry, but his mother loved it. So, by default, he did too.

"Son, Audura Greengrass called on me the week you began your law enforcement training. Reynold is trying to establish a conservative block in the Wizengamot."

"None of the Death Eater families have seats."

"While that is true, it is only true for now. The non-aligned pureblood families are working to change the way the Wizengamot seats are filled. The current method allows the Minister to place members that will follow his way of thinking. A move is underway to eventually have at least half the representatives in those seats be democratically elected by the general population instead."

"That kind of change will take a long time."

"We're playing the long game; change for yours or your children's generation. The conservative block must be cultivated until then."

"I see."

For several minutes they remained quiet while enjoying the first course. When they had finished, Narcissa lifted her wine glass and looked over to her son.

"Draco, on your recommendation I made an offer to Auror Gemmel Nesbit for the position of security chief in our potion ingredients import business. I did this despite my misgivings about his experience."

"Mother, he was an Auror during the corrupt Ministry and remained loyal to the Order of the Phoenix. He fought against the Dark Lord during the Battle of Hogwarts. He deserves to be rewarded even though the Ministry claims he was only doing his job."

"He accepted the offer and starts in October. His salary will be three times what he was making as an Auror. Son, I know he is on their team right now."

Draco, serving the main dish, paused a second and looked at her. Then he smoothly continued until both had chicken in front of them.

"Draco, please don't tell me you are still caught up in this dangerous plan of yours."

"I thought you had forgotten. I told you about my idea before my last year at Hogwarts."

"I don't forget when my son sets out to get himself killed. I simply thought you would let it go after school."

"My death is not part of the plan. It never was."

"Your death is a very real possibility if you start down this path."

"Mother, it's a real possibility while I'm an Auror."

"It is not the same. You are willing to end the Malfoy line for what? To settle a score? This is not tit for tat and you are no longer a twelve-year-old schoolboy."

"It's nice of you to notice. Yet you attempt to direct me as if I am."

"Be respectful; I am your mother."

"A fact that you throw into my face whenever you wish to control me. Despite what you claim this is the very epitome of tit for tat. Those three hold responsibility for me being in this untenable position and I cannot stay here. I cannot have honor if I fail to take this opportunity to act. I want my honor back."

"Your father's plan will give you back your honor. Follow it. I demand you do so!"

Draco slams his palm on the table, rattling the flatware and setting the wine glasses swaying. "Father's plan restores the Malfoy honor and name, not mine! I will follow it, but if I do so without including the actions I need to take, then I regain the Malfoy honor at the expense of my own. Can't you see, mother? I am a shell of a man and they are key to my restoration! I cannot lead this family until I am whole. Also, my honor will not be restored if we don't maintain secrecy; I cannot be caught in this. No one, not even father, can know or it unravels. Please promise on your magic that you will keep it to yourself." He held his wand with the tip pointing past her.

"I almost wish they would find out. It is better than your death."

"Mother, please swear."

"You are going through with this even if I don't." She held up her wand, touching the tip of his. "I swear on my magic that I will not divulge your plan to anyone, including your father."

The wand tips glowed and extinguished.

"Thank you, mother."

"Well, can we put this behind us? I will not attempt to dissuade you from your goal if you promise to minimize your risk whenever possible."

"Of course, mother. I don't wish to die."

"That doesn't mean I will stop admonishing you when you do get injured. That is a mother's prerogative."

Draco smiled. "I would never presume to get in the way of your worrying."

Narcissa set down her wand, held back her tears and returned to her meal. She was imagining a hospital bed occupied by her severely injured and unconscious son. That or a coffin.

/-/-/- -/-/-/

Ron was unhappy. For Harry, that wasn't really anything new. The two other Aurors on their team were somewhat surprised, though. Ron was not open to meeting the future team member over lunch and was openly grumbling about it.

"Let it rest, Ron. We all know of his past. He has agreed to be law enforcement to make up for it."

"Was that how he got in?" Ron ran his hand through his hair. "I didn't think the DMLE forced people in our job."

"No. I meant he pushed to get in and explained that it was to make up for his family's part in the rebellion. Look, I don't want my last few months here to be used keeping you and Malfoy from killing each other. You will afford him the same courtesy that you would any other newbie."

"As you say Gemmel. I might have some good-natured pranks up my sleeve for him. By the way, your resignation was a surprise to all of us. I thought you loved this work."

"I do, but…"

"Then why quit? You're really good."

"As I was about to say, _Junior_ Auror Weasley, I will continue to work in protection. I get to be a supervisor though; much faster than in the Aurors. The pay is aces, too. With Stanley and Wilma growing like crazy, they're going to need new school robes. Also, Lydia is starting Hogwarts next year. I just wanted to step up and give them more than the minimum."

"Yeah, I see that. Well, congrats. You will be missed….certainly taught me a thing or two. Not sure why you're here though. You leave before Malfoy gets on the team."

"Well, Lazare is going to McMurdo with you and the folks in Auror training thought I could help with the cadets. I could get Malfoy up to speed on the way my team functions. Actually, it's Auror de Quitte-beuf's team now. Right Lazare?"

"Qui, it is mine now. Of course you leave me with the least talented wizards in the history of the British Aurors…nay…in the history of law enforcement! Mon-deux! Let us hope this Malfoy is at least adequate. I thank the gods that he has a good French name!"

"Hey, I don't appreciate being insulted while I'm away _buying_ a round of pints!" Harry exclaimed as he set five glasses on the table. "I'm not sure that Draco's is really a French name. I wonder if he has relatives on the continent."

Ron chimed in. "I think that 'mal' means 'bad' in French; so Malfoy must mean bad-something. No surprises there."

The small group chuckled and each man reached for their glasses, leaving one on the table.

"With that being said, despite my complaints, I will give Junior Auror Malfoy a cautious benefit of the doubt." Ron raised his glass. "To Auror Nesbit, our guiding hand for the last year. Congratulations on your move to the civilian security forces and your obscene increase in pay. May you go mad from the boredom and your Gringotts vault remain empty as your wife decorates your home and your children buy muggle electronics."

"Hear, hear" shouted Lazare as four pints clinked together.

Ron struck his pint against the glass on the table. "I think Malfoy should also toast you Gemmel; whether he wants to or not."

Grinning, Harry also tapped the unclaimed glass as the others moved to follow suit.

"Don't spill my beer. Besides, I would have toasted him too."

"Saw ya coming." Ron said into the glass at his lips. "Ya gotta get better at being sneaky."

"And you have to get better at looking human. Perhaps if you actually practiced at it…." Draco voiced drily.

Harry sprayed beer back into his glass and started choking.

"Ha!" laughed Lazare. "French! He must have French blood!"

"Despite my ancestry, I identify as British….and I'll thank you to pass my glass over."

Ron snatched up the pint and extended his arm to Draco. "Please, join us Mr. Malfoy. Harry made a fine choice on his first round."

"Thank you and that's Junior Auror Malfoy." the blonde rebutted.

"Not _yet_. You have to finish the preliminary training, _Mr._ Malfoy!" Ron growled.

"Shall we simply call a truce and work on trust from that point, Junior Auror Weasley? My only intent is to be the best Auror I can as part of the best team. This cannot be accomplished if we don't attempt to be civil."

"You are correct and I apologize for my attitude. I have not let the past rest as much as I thought I had." Ron stood and held out his hand. "Ronald Weasley, Junior Auror. Welcome to the team."

Draco took his hand. "Draco Malfoy. I am honored to meet you and Auror de Quitte-beuf's team. I look forward to working with the best."

Lazare leaned forward slammed his heavy arm into Draco's shoulder, pushing him sideways. "Welcome Draco. Now let's get to know each other over some drinks as I am sure you will easily complete the preliminary training. Harry, here, made it so I expect our recruits will start looking more like chimps as the standards continue to drop."

Ginger and Platinum both laughed at that, while Harry pretended to sulk. Draco smirked inwardly as he considered that gaining their trust may be easier than he expected.


	12. When It's Almost Too Much

**A/N: Several reviews are scathingly deriding the idea that Draco could be allowed to apply for law enforcement much less become an Auror. I find myself having to defend my position on this since it is a part of the story I must keep in.**

 **I guess the possibility of him getting into law enforcement would depend on how the British Wizarding government categorized the Voldemort uprising. As a rebellion against the government it would technically be a war, even if part of it involved collusion within the government itself. Soldiers on the losing side of a war are not typically held accountable for killings they performed in the battles they fought. This includes actions to remove high ranking persons on the opposing side (Dumbledore) and, frankly, a great deal of leeway in benefit of the doubt is afforded those soldiers. The treatment of defeated soldiers is handled the same regardless of the ideology of the group for which they fought. Each soldier is held accountable for their individual actions that violate acceptable conduct during an armed conflict. The killing of non-combatants and torturing of prisoners are typically violations that result in convictions and incarceration. Even those violations do not automatically result in convictions especially when you consider the fact that the entire population of the wizarding world, except young children, is armed and can be considered a combatant.**

 **Along with that fuzziness, you have the egregious actions by the Ministry of Magic which incarcerated a number of people with the shabbiest kangaroo courts in all of literature. See Prisoner of Azkaban and Goblet of Fire for references to those trials. Also, remember the travesty that was the trial and incarceration of muggleborns during Voldemort's oversight of the Ministry. The new Ministry in Britain should not want to be seen as overly prejudicial after the two previous governments had so obviously violated human rights.**

 **For precedents to support the possibility of Draco being exonerated of war crimes and serving in law enforcement, one merely has to look to the placement of law enforcement officers in the South after the American Civil War, or the restocking of law enforcement including federal law agencies in Germany and Japan after WWII. In both instances, the ideology of the government for the losing side was not a factor in placing prior soldiers for that side in law enforcement for the new governments that were put in place.**

 **Is it Canon? That depends on how you characterize the reactions of the players in the political environment after the second Wizarding War. Are they like the Ron of many fanfictions, all rage and no brains? Or, are they people that are trying to set up a stable wizarding society despite the hard feelings and human frailties. Mistakes will be made and some will commit wrong deeds, but the majority will work to make a better society. Also, the judicious use of finances can affect decisions of good people as well as avaricious ones.**

 **As for Hermione being portrayed as weak, there is a reason for that. Let the story provide the answer. Also, I was under the impression that the Hermione of canon has some moderate insecurities and was rather friendless before Harry and Ron.**

 **Regarding the concern that Hermione is being portrayed as a 'skank', I don't believe I have done so.**

 **A skank is a woman who:**

 **Is very promiscuous (a blatantly sexist categorization since there is no similarly insulting term for a very promiscuous man). I don't think having 2 partners in 2 years would be considered overly promiscuous.**

 **Smells bad or has bad hygiene. Well, that's completely off the mark, since I have not described her level of cleanliness at all.**

 **That's my point of view regarding these alleged deviations from cannon and character. I appreciate that people have pointed out their disagreement with this and I can see their point of view to an extent. Don't really like the insults though.**

 **/-/-/-/-/-/**

 **12\. When it's almost too much for my soul alone.**

For Morgana's sake Luna, what's the ingredient? You are frustrating sometimes. I know you don't hide it on purpose. It's just that you make leaps when you talk and when you write. I can't always follow you.

That's because you're stupid; a memorizer with no real intellect. A parrot can recite back what it's told.

I'm the brightest witch of the age.

No. The label is ' _brightest witch of your age_ '. So, you're the brightest witch of age 20. Luna is 19 and she's brighter. Plus, the label was frivolously applied. How could those professors possibly know the capabilities of all the girls your age? And 'brightest witch'? Why not brightest person or brightest magical person? Is there a wizard of your age who is brighter than you?

Ok, this is silly and now I'm off track. The ingredient. What does 'the 5th one' mean? 5th what? Beethoven's 5th? The 5th Dimenson? The 5th of never? No that's the 12th. Bloody hell!

Well, there's Ron's influence on me.

Ron. He's really in shape. I surely like the shape of that bum. And those abdominals, the way they change definition when he breathes hard. Speaking of hard…I wonder if he still…

Focus Hermione! Ingredient. 5th ingredient! What does that mean? It's not even listed in the 5th place, it's the 7th position; right there. There's the porcupine quills and the foxglove; then the 5th ingredient. Wait, is that what it says? Ron's awful handwriting; thought he was getting better. Maybe in a hurry the other night. Look closer…it has a mark after the 'th'. That's an 's'.

It says '5ths'? Maybe 'fifth's ingredient'? The 5th person to activate the rune? List, list, wizard's names. Ok, who's number 5? That would be….Farrow…Clarence Farrow. Where's the write-up on that? This stack? Ruddy dry fingers; can't flip through these. Lick them. That's better. Ugh! That ink tastes horrid. Where are you Clarence? Where…where…Not here, apparently. Over on the shelf? Let's see.

Ow! Stop being in such a blasted hurry. Now I have a bruise.

So what; you're not using that leg for anything. Just toothpicks that certainly can't attract anyone.

Luna never said anything. Ron either.

Do I want him attracted? But he acts attracted…and that kiss…and his hands…touching my scalp so softly. He tasted like the wine. Luna tasted like radishes and mint the first time. Oh no, did Ron think I tasted like those awful crisps!? He didn't have any and was…nice. Those chest and arm muscles bunched up…poised to….what? To spring on me…to crush me to him? I wanted that…right then. I could hardly breathe….didn't want to. But, if I feel that about him, what about Luna? Her love is…comforting….soothing and soft…not overwhelming like he is….and… Is this about love or just sex?

Clarence. I'm looking for the notes on Clarence Farrow, not Ron or Luna. This stack? Slippery papers; dry fingers. Yuk! That tastes awful! I need a sponge or something wet. I am NOT tasting that ink again. Farrow. Farrow. Oh, come on! Where are you? Using up time on this stupid…Ah! There you are, you sneaky sod. Back to the table.

Ok, ' _Clarence Farrow, wizard born circa 1540. Died March 8, 1603. Welsh. Notes held by historian, Beaufort Petel…_ ' Skip that….next '… _effeminate tendencies prior to rune use, definite masculine after he…._ ' No, look further down. ' _Predicted London fire of September 2 1666. Great nephew Denton Farrow, wizard, forced evacuation of London Bridge that morning. Saved 54 people…_ ' No, no….skip…to… ' _Rune coating notes from journal fragments….foxglove, fennel, crup fur; charred crushed, aconite-vinegar mud mix…_ ' That's it! Aconite mixed in vinegar. No aconite or vinegar in Luna's ingredients list. Mud? High ratio of aconite to vinegar. She had both in the potions cabinet. In our cabinet now. Now, I have to go get it. Ron said to put it in this lab; always wish I had when I have to get something. In the next room is smarter, safer. Sitting here is not getting the potion made. So, aconite and vinegar….and fennel. Better remember to close the lab door before I start brewing.

The loo…probably should pee before firing up the cauldron. Still has the doorknob that looks like a face….eerie. That mirror's still cracked; thought Harry fixed it. Oh, blue cotton…wonder why I…Ssst! Seat's cold! Warming charm, dummy! Are you a witch or what? Why did I think I was wearing the red satins? Losing track of days, I guess. Wow! That's loud…waterfall…echoing off the tile. Can it be heard outside the door? Embarrassing. Never liked the black and white tile in here. Octagons…black ones here and there…like freckles. Freckles. Wonder why I have to fart sometimes when I pee? Makes it easier to finish after I do, though. Does it push against the bladder? Oh my, what did I eat? That's really offensive! Glad Ron and Harry aren't here. The roll's getting low. Is there another one in the box? Yes, those boys are getting better. Just needed to be taught. They buy the good stuff…soft. Harry and Ron are becoming more civilized. Ron has changed so much...his manners improved. I'm the one who's remained stagnant; the one who's…

Undeserving? Only worthwhile if you can solve problems?

Not true! My parents think I'm worthwhile.

They have to. Saying you're worthless would be a slight against their own value.

I haven't…the rune isn't solved, but Luna, and Harry and Ron and Ginny are close to me.

A mental patient, a guy who derides your efforts with the rune, another guy who must think you're a pathetic weepy weakling, and a minor athlete who doesn't believe you rate the effort of an owl. Oh boy! That's a fantastic testament to your worth.

Stop it! Get up! Potion brewing time. A chain pull; ancient. Lav, water on. Erg…cold! I don't want to wait. Ugh! Barely rinses the soap off…nice soap…Ron's smell. What?! No towel?! So much for the boys getting more civilized. Do they even wash their hands? Wipe on pants…got to get going. Disturbing face doorknob is on the inside too. Makes me shiver when I grab it. Just down the hall. Ingredients cabinet. Alohomora! Ok, vinegar and aconite. Right! Don't forget fennel too…curved bottle. Good. Colloportus! Back to lab…get brewing.

Door closed, ingredients on table; list-list-list…there! What's wrong with the chair? Oh…lump in the carpet; got it. Back to it; line them up. Juniper berries, chopped already; Honeywater; Leech juice, filtered out the mini-threads; Syrup of Arnica; Crup fur, charred; Porcupine quills, powdered; Foxglove, whole petals dried, Aconite powder, White Vinegar, and Fennel seeds, coarsely crushed. Ok, remember to make the aconite mud. Last three: Lacewing Flies, powdered; Scurvy Grass, finely chopped; and Hermione Granger blood, still in me.

Everything's prepared except the aconite mud. Mostly sure that order on the list is the order for adding to the cauldron. Probably should have waited to see if Ron could find the brewing instructions; No, I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of most everything; Luna's problems, predictions, that bitch Bellatrix, Harry's selfishness. It's all so twisted up! Besides, Luna may not have written the instructions. Using the order of ingredients and brewing rules. I'm not even sure getting the rune figured out will help Luna. Yet, I'm still doing it. Well, I should find out what it does. Ok. Caldron; silver, cast iron, or pewter? Silver is less reactive…so…silver it is! I hope.

Juniper berries and honeywater and leech juice. 'Juniper berry skin dissolving in leech juice is highly exothermic. Any heat added during the process will likely result in an extreme burst of energy. The leech solvent can be diluted with honeywater or vinegar to slow the energy release. However, no heating should be attempted until signs appear showing that most of the skin has dissolved.' Holy shite, I _do_ recite textbooks! So, I'll stir and watch for grey-green streamers from the berry parts. No heating before then or the solution gets sprayed all over me. Juniper and leech always difficult. This will take a bit. Can't even read while I stir; got to keep the berry pieces moving.

Clockwise.

At least Bellatrix hasn't bothered with me since she hurt Ron. Almost three weeks. I don't want anyone hurt because of me but I can't let this go on. Last time it just kept getting worse even after Luna got me to fight back. Didn't let up until we hid me from her. I don't have anyone to help now. Maybe…Ron? And Harry? Ron will; Harry too probably. But she will undoubtedly find out. How do I protect everyone else if I get help?

Anticlockwise

Can we keep it a secret? Maybe? Try building a new notice-me-not, spelled to her only? I need her blood or hair for that…again. Can I get it again? What's the risk? I have to resist and hurt her the next time she shows up. Blood would be best; I certainly wouldn't mind hurting her like last time. Wait! Is there blood still in here from last time? Kreacher cleaned up yet? Looks like it. Of course, it's been three weeks. Bugger me! First step: get blood or hair. No. First step: warn Ron and Harry about Bellatrix. She'll probably show up because I told; happened last time at Hogwarts.

Clockwise. No streamers yet.

Will they help? Ron will … his promise to me … to always help me. Why? What am I worth…to him?

As what, his love or lover? You're not worth one damn thing. He's a very loyal man who's still caught up in his heat-of-the-moment promise after the Battle.

But he didn't want me when I asked. All I wanted was to know I'm desirable after that witch….but he didn't. Now I can't and he thinks I won't, but he still gives up so much to help me, even though he thinks it's because I'm unsure about Luna. He knew, about Luna before I graduated….Ginny. He is her brother after all. But he was trying again. He kissed me…short but great kiss…felt it down to my toes. But he refused sex? Was that it? He didn't want me without commitment to him? Am I ready for that…to go back to him?

Oh…anticlockwise. Looks like small streamers on the berry parts. Not enough yet.

Do I want to go back to Ron? I do love Luna, but I love him too and Luna doesn't want me anymore. She's not really sane, though. Will she want me when she is healed? If I go to Ron, am I betraying her while she's sick? He never said I was cheating on him when I was with Luna; he just said we shouldn't be together. His decision. I don't want to hurt Luna and I don't want to hurt Ron either.

Brightest witch of your age? That can't possibly be true. You have to hurt one of them. You make such piss poor decisions! You just allowed yourself to drift into being her lover. She kissed you and felt you up…your brain went fuzzy. Then she went down on you and you lost your control. You're shallow. Fell into love because your body got attention that Ron couldn't be there to do. You stayed because you felt guilty over it when you started seeing Ron again.

No! I feel more than sexual desire for Luna. I wouldn't be taking these risks and spending so much time on this if it were only friendship.

Clockwise. Hmmm. Longer streamers…enough? I'll go a little more.

Is my relationship with Luna what I want? At least wizarding society has no social issues with homosexuality. Even pureblood traditionalists accept it. I don't have to give up my career for her. Wouldn't have to for Ron either. He was my first real love. Can he be my love again? Should I want him again or her? Circles….keep going around in circles with this.

You don't deserve either one of them. Always showing off your memory skills…had to…you have no real social skills...or anything else of value. Skinny….no tits…arse juts out like a ledge. You give away knowledge for friendship…then get all judgmental on others who haven't memorized their textbooks as well as you.

Stop this.

Anticlockwise. Long streamers. Potion color is yellowing. Stop stirring and light cauldron fire.

Incendio. Lower flame, heat slowly and stir…watch for sudden localized boiling around the berry parts. The berries should dissolve and the color should be….yellow? I don't know! Gold?...from the honeywater? Just watch for the berries to completely dissolve. The leech juice and honeywater should have all the berries completely mixed if I stir during the process. More stirring….great! Wish I had a muggle electric mixer. No. Probably stir too fast and mix in too much air.

Clockwise

Will Ron and Harry be back tonight? Think so. Should I stay and talk to them…or should I wait? I think I will ask them to lunch Friday….a muggle place, so we can talk without others listening in, especially Aurors. That's only three days and I can get my head on straight before I tell them. If this potion turns out, I'll go see Luna and tell her about it. Wednesday instead of Thursday; I don't think I can wait if this works. Maybe seeing the potion or the rune coated with the potion will help bring back the old memories. Make sure to bring the rune medallion.

Anticlockwise. Gold! It's supposed to be gold not yellow! The berries are noticeably smaller and it's dark yellow now.

When I tell them about Bellatrix, what will they do? They already know something is going on. I can't hide much, especially from Ron, and he'll tell Harry. Harry will shake down Ginny. What does she know? Hogwarts…the bathroom. Did she remember the cuts and the blood? I don't think I obliviated those from her. Forgot about that. Oh Merlin! Harry knows I was attacked! Ron knows! Now I have to tell them! Otherwise, they'll try something anyway without knowing what she's capable of.

You can't stop her. You're weak and she is stronger each time. She takes your strength from you as you cower, impotently, like the poor excuse for a witch that you are. No real power. No real intuition. Just books and cleverness; and not so much cleverness after all.

Quit it! Gold color, transparent. No more juniper. Add the Arnica syrup. Hmmm, black precipitate crystals. Should I take it out? That's the normal procedure…so…yes. Little swipes with the sieve cloth. Oooo…hot, hot….be careful. Levitate the cloth through the bottom while stirring. Looks good the first time. Stir. More precipitate. Cloth again. Slower this time. Got it! Stir….No precipitate.

Stir in the Crup fur and Porcupine quills….put out the fire first. Ok…slowly….fir; then stir. Mix thoroughly. Good. Now the quills. Stir. The fur and powdered quills changed the potion to orange and translucent. Incendio! They still should continue to dissolve slowly. Let it simmer. I can make the Aconite mud. Pewter bowl; aconite. Drip the vinegar and stir. Look for slurry consistency; like clay.

What will they do when I tell them? They're Aurors. They will want to capture her. They don't know she can't be held in any prison. That can't be true. There has to be a way to hold her. She got into Hogwarts though. She only allowed Luna and I to hide me from her. Well, Ron will want to destroy her, but we can't. The horcrux has to be found first. Another thing to tell them. Plus, as Aurors, Harry and Ron are obligated to try and take her alive.

Now I have a purple goop. Is that mud or should I add more vinegar? It's slimy with a lot of cohesion; stringy almost. The powdered aconite pieces try to stick together?! Interesting, is it a coagulant? Maybe that's what makes the potion thick like paint.

Find the horcrux. The clues, the four clues.

 _ **A new thing at Hogwarts.**_ I've been all over the castle and have no idea what new thing she's talking about.

 _ **A new thing at my parents' house.**_ They have a new auto and new computer. I practically took the auto apart to. There was nothing there. The computer didn't yield anything either.

 _ **The blood traitor saved the wrong thing**_. What does that even mean? How is it a clue? Sounds more like an insult. He saved me from her.

 _ **I can go anywhere you go**_. What does that have to do with the thing that is keeping her from dying? It really makes no sense.

Ok, the potion's dark orange….almost brown. Add the foxglove petals. Stir? Let's see what happens first. The liquid is moving near the petals. Oh! Almost clear. Yes, definitely stir. Slowly. The foxglove is turning brown. Breaking up and floating to the top. Do I skim them? Think so….but…the whole potion is bluish but very light. They're not going into solution. So I'll take them out. The potion is thin now.

The clues. The last one was given by accident…maybe. It could be the most important if she didn't want to give it out. How does it fit with the others? I'm the key to her ability to cross wards? Me. Ron saved me. Two clues are directly referring to me. How does that fit with the first two? Should I have myself checked for some type of magical trace spell? Even if there is one, how does that lead me to the horcrux? I don't think….oh. Am I her horcrux? No. No? Is the new thing at my parents' house the part of her soul…in me? Is that the same for Hogwarts? Seems too simple. Has she found a way to use a horcrux to get her through protective wards? How did she make me a horcrux? She had to murder someone. When could she have done it? One of the snatchers? But she couldn't really prepare. Not enough time.

Aconite mud and crushed fennel into the heated mix. Stir. Oh that thickens quickly. The fennel is foaming? Low Ph…dissolving it. Turning the color of the mud, pretty purple. It's a little lumpy. Color's mottled. Take it off the flame….Stir-stir-stir. Keep going until it smooths out. It's losing the thick texture.

Every clue points, or can point to me. I can't be a horcrux. Harry was an accident. She wouldn't want me or any living being to be one. Also, she simply didn't have time to prepare.

You don't know enough about horcrux spells to draw that conclusion. Should've read the whole section instead of being too weak to read the description. Then maybe you could have regurgitated it now and know how to make one. Tough luck, stupid. You probably are a horcrux and need to be destroyed so she can be destroyed.

I'll ask Kingsley to release one of the books, so I can research it. Resolve the problem. I'm sure he'll get if for me. I can talk Thursday morning….I'll make an appointment when I get into work tomorrow. I'll learn then and make a plan.

Looks nice and smooth; color and texture. Let it sit before then add the blood mixture. Don't want the human components to decompose. Cooling charm…that will do it.

Ceramic bowl. Scurvy grass and lacewing fly powder. Mix to coat the grass. Mix-n-mix-n-mix-n-mix. Mix-mix-mix. Ok now I get to cut myself. Knife. Palm or thumb? Can squeeze more out from the palm…need 30 milliliters. Measuring beaker. Right on the pad below the thumb. Ok…deep breath…exhale halfway…hold it. Slice. Ow! Bugger! Did I cut right on a nerve? Oh! Get it in the beaker! This is messy…..ok….slowing down. Squeeze; oh that's throbbing. A little more….there. Now dittany. We keep plenty of that around. Sssst…that stings…like always. Better add the blood to the bowl before it coagulates. There. Now stir. The grass and flies are dissolving? Interesting. Bright red. Hmmm. Filter the grass or stir more? The measurements were specific…so…stir more.

Anticlockwise. The blood is actually getting thinner.

Is the potion cool enough for the blood? Lukewarm…should be good. Use the glass stirring rod. Pour in the blood mixture and mix completely. Look at it thicken where it contacts the blood. Smooth and thick just like paint. Luna, you are so very smart. I wish you could understand what you've accomplished. All I have to do is paint the rune and figure out the incantation to activate it. The older notes claim it must be a common motion spell. I'll find it and then…well…not sure if I'll help her, but it will be a step toward her healing….I think.

What about Bellatrix? If I'm a horcrux, how will we kill the piece of that horrid witch's soul without killing me? All we've ever done is destroy the horcrux to destroy the soul inside it. Except….Harry. He didn't die…or did he? I really don't want to die. Not after all we've done to get rid of Riddle. Harry says his willingness to sacrifice himself is what kept him from dying and protected us in the battle. If I'm willing to sacrifice myself…then maybe. But, if I believe my self-sacrifice will protect me then it isn't a sacrifice. Is it? Maybe not, but it will help them, even if it won't help me.

That's right. Don't be selfish. You're not worth it. You led Ron on and then left him for Luna. You've destroyed Luna's life. Your parents are afraid of magic; afraid of you. Remember your mother in the waiting room? Didn't want to talk about magic. Ron really does want you but you'll only bring him down. You're doing it already. He's killing himself to help you when you don't do anything to deserve it. You'll ruin him, then end him and act like it's not even your fault. But you know it is. You've known all along. You're poison to them. The only good thing is to sacrifice yourself.

It is. When should I do it?

After activating the rune again. After saying goodbye to them.

But how? Trick Bellatrix? Goad her into casting the spell?

Yes.


	13. They say the danger's gone away

**A/N: It appears that the weight of public opinion has determined that I am outside of canon with regard to Draco's suitability for the position of Auror. Additionally, I have written Hermione out of character. I accept the judgement of the masses, if for no other reason than to minimize causes for readers to abandon my story. Thanks to all who have taken their time to provide feedback, both positive and negative. I cannot improve my fiction without readership who are willing to hold me accountable.**

 **/-/-/-/-/**

 **Chapter 13. They say the danger's gone away.**

Lazare de Quitte-beuf deftly set the Imperturb and disabled the recording charm on the conference room. Then he tossed his wand on the table, turned toward the others and noted the stricken look on Ronald Weasley's face. He kept his voice controlled and calm.

"You will shut your mouth and listen very closely to the wisdom I shall now impart to you."

"Yes sir. I understand."

"No. Obviously, you do not understand because you just vocalized when I specifically ordered you to remain quiet. Until I request a response from you, I expect you to emit no sound that I can hear."

Ron remained perfectly still, hands on the table and eyes glued to the team's leader.

Lazare continued, "I have been patient with your complaints about Mr. Malfoy. You have communicated your objections and the reasons for them to the point that I have memorized your entire sixth year at Hogwarts. This is despite my fervent wish to have no knowledge whatsoever about your life prior to entering the Ministry's employ, and my succinct, direct, and multiple vocalizations requesting that you desist in communicating that knowledge to me. Therefore, let me make my position regarding this topic abundantly clear. I am reluctant to trust any former Death Eater, to the point that I suspect some sort of duplicity and I plan on watching Mr. Malfoy closely until he proves himself worthy."

He took a quick breath and pushed it out slowly.

"Be that as it may, I am also aware of the MLE's position on his appointment. The man was given a fair trial and acquitted of all the serious charges due to the coercion he was experiencing at the time, along with the fact that he was a combatant in a war. He confessed to the negligent endangerment charges and had to pay restitution to both parties. You received 50,000 galleons, as did Miss Bell. The incidents were considered collateral damage that occurred as a result of actions taken by combatants in a war. By the same token, Mr. Potter has not been charged for injuring Mr. Malfoy during your sixth year. Those are the findings of the court and they are considered final. I have no say in this, and neither do you. The only potential issue blocking his admission to Ministry Law Enforcement training was the consideration that he was unduly susceptible to coercion. The admissions board declared in his favor and admitted Mr. Malfoy to the program. Therefore, although I have concerns regarding the coincidental departure of Gemmel at the same time Malfoy was assigned, I will grant him the opportunity to succeed or fail, the same as I do you, Mr. Weasley, and you Mr. Potter."

The Frenchman pointed at Ron.

"As a member of law enforcement, you are required to fairly treat those you take into custody. This fairness is not dependent upon the actions they exhibited prior to their arrest. You are not their judge nor their jury. If you cannot reign in your emotions and follow that code, Auror Weasley, then perhaps you should choose a different career. You think about that while you are keeping your opinions to yourself, especially in front of my superiors. This childish whining. Will. End. Starting. Now. Have I made myself understood, junior Auror Weasley?"

"Very much so, Senior Auror de Quitte-beuf!"

In an uncharacteristic display of his anger, Lazare snatched up his wand, cancelled the Imperturb, and restarted the recording charm in one fluid motion.

"Gentlemen, I am tired. When I am tired, I get upset easily. We have spent 40 hours prior to noon today tracking down absolutely nothing. Potter, I want that informant to be made acutely aware of the depths of my disappointment in the information she gave you."

"Yes sir. She will be."

"Now, I realize that you have gotten only a few hours sleep, but I asked that the results of the investigation into our two suspects be given to me immediately. My American muggle police contact provided me with some information which, I believe, changes things somewhat. Ron, you will find this particularly interesting, as it contradicts some reports from our sources in Azkaban concerning your actions in the Battle of the Seven Potters."

Ron squirmed in his seat. "How so?"

Without a word, Lazare pulled out a moderately sized folder, opened it, and pulled out the top parchment. He adjusted his reading glasses and began.

"Reginald Kerwin and Tamrind Burke were never actually Death Eaters. Each were half blood with muggle fathers. Their interest in muggle technology essentially kept them out of Voldemort's circle of most dedicated. Their duties put them in close proximity with muggles and muggleborns. Witnesses have come forth with accusations of Imperiousing some muggles and unprovoked killing of both. Kerwin had also been seen abducting 5 young women, who's bodies showed considerable abuse when they were recovered. The muggle autopsy indicated that two of them were dismembered while still alive."

Harry studied the swirls in the wood grain of the tabletop, his right hand tightening on the edge. He'd heard reports like this before, of men who lost their morals in this conflict, or had no morals in the first place. He always found himself thinking of Arthur when he heard of these horrors. What if Ginny had been one of those? Even with his love of the fiery redhead, he couldn't imagine the devastation that would be felt by the man who'd held her as a baby and watched her develop to the woman she was.

The team leader continued, "Our suspects disappeared together after Hogwarts. They were quick enough to leave Britain before the borders were closed. Due to a bulletin put out by the British muggle government, Burke was spotted in Charleston, South Carolina, USA six days later by the local police. He was surprised and arrested. However, Kerwin acted and helped him escape the muggles before MACUSA could be convinced to act. They dropped out of sight without a trace but Burke's wand was recovered and is being held by MACUSA. Until the Ministry can negotiate new extradition agreements, that evidence will not be available to us."

"We still don't have an agreement? Why not?" Ron asked.

"After Minister Fudge was ousted, the government started making it difficult for muggleborns to leave Britian. The United States was a favored escape location for those fearing Voldemort but the Ministry immediately tried to extradite any who went there. Then it got worse when the Death Eaters took the government. MACUSA is very cautious now and the negotiations are difficult. Regardless, Burke and Kerwin were missing until seen as part of a United States Antarctic Program contingent passing through New Zealand. That much you already know.

Several pieces of paper were set in front of Ron and Harry. The top sheet had a heading which read 'Project AMANDA' with a picture of an ice field and a dark grey rectangular building with a raised white platform at one end. The caption read 'MAPO Building with AMANDA electronics on 2nd floor'. At Lazare's indication, Ron turned to the next page. 'South Pole TDRSS Relay (SPTR)' was spread across the top of the page. A drawing showed the earth with Antarctica in prominent view and, above the globe, an arc passing through a mechanical-looking device with square wings labeled 'TDRS'. Another picture showed a platform with a white ball-shaped structure and square building on top of it.

"What are these about?" asked Harry.

"These are the locations where our fugitives are working now. As technicians for the AMANDA project, they have also been trained as operation and maintenance personnel for the SPTR and two other satellite tracking stations." Raising his hands to dispel any questions, Lazare continued. "A satellite is a craft that flies in space above the air around the earth. It sends and receives signals to tracking stations on the earth much like how the wizard radio station and wizard radio works. Information is sent on those signals just like music and talking are sent to the radios. The stations at the south pole are used to communicate information to the rest of the world and get information from it. Our friends are there to keep those stations working. However, their main employer is the AMANDA project. AMANDA is an acronym that stands for 'Antarctic Muon And Neutrino Detector Array'. They both work for the University of California at Berkley and this is where things get interesting, and confusing."

He turned to the next page. A picture showing a large group of smiling men and women was displayed. The title above the picture declared 'AMANDA teams begin restructuring for commencement of IceCube.' Below the picture, 'IceCube team formed from universities across the globe: From left to right….' then it went on to list the individuals in the photograph.

"Take a look. There's our fugitives. Kerwin is now Peter Brock and Burke is Michael Czeshinski. Looks like they plan on being part of this project for the long haul. This IceCube thing is scheduled for building over the next 6 years at the south pole. Now look at the man three people to the right of Burke..er..Czeshinski. He is listed as the 'second project lead for neutrino research at Berkley' and his name is Andrew Moyhan. Those are the same name and same face as the Death Eater Andrew Moyhan who was listed as killed in the Battle of the Seven Potters. He was named by Lucius Malfoy as a casualty from a stunner at the end of your wand, Mr. Weasley. Except, now he shows up at a muggle university in charge of neutrino research?"

Ron spoke up, "What is neutrino?"

Lazare smiled. "Are, Mr. Weasley, are. I didn't know either; so I'm glad my contact saw fit to provide detailed background information. Neutrinos are particles that are smaller than atoms. You know what atoms are?" Both men nodded. "There are special properties of neutrinos that may tell more about the structure of the universe and something called dark matter. Dark matter is a substance that cannot be detected except through its gravitational effect on the universe. Muggle research has shown that the universe's movement is affected more than it should be by the matter that can be seen."

"Is this just a cover or do these wizards really care about this dark matter and the structure of the universe? Seems like a complicated hiding place for a magical person. Why?" Harry commented.

"And why do we need to know this if we're simply suppose to wait for them on their way out from the south pole station? Our cover for this operation is Hermione's work for the Ministry. That is limited to Ross Island." queried Ron.

"Gawain Robards wants you to know because this is the second group of former Voldemort followers who have been reported working in muggle science in fields related to things smaller than atoms. The previous ones dropped out of sight after working with a professor at Cambridge who researches something called 'String Theory'. That apparently also deals with the basic structure of the universe."

The Frenchman paused and pointed at the group picture. "Is this another organized effort to restore the Death Eater regime, or are they simply coincidental instances among the more educated fugitives? Since you're going to be in Antarctica for a significant amount of time, perhaps you would be able to gather some information from the USA base on that AMANDA project…. some reports or research notes."

Harry glanced at the photograph. "What do we know about Moyhan, besides that he took the Mark?"

"Lucius Malfoy was present when they brought him into the ranks and read the background information. Moyhan was born in Ireland as a pureblood but moved to the States as an infant when his parents were killed by Aurors and the Ministry tried to cover it up. He dropped out of sight, which may have been part of the coverup. His adoptive parents were muggles who moved him to the States. They were not aware of his wizarding ancestry. He was identified early in his muggle education as a genius and was accelerated through to college by age 15. A particularly public instance of accidental magic caused MACUSA to finally identify him as a wizard, when he was earning his doctorate in the science of physics. OK, I'm not really sure what that is, but it's related to understanding the way the physical universe works. The representatives from Ilvermorny said he was angry that he had gone 23 years without anyone telling him he could do magic. He had thought he was alone until then, and immediately traveled to Ireland to find out about his family. He was given help by Voldemort sympathizers who taught him magic. They also told him about the death of his parents and the Ministry's involvement in it. Moyhan swore allegiance to the Dark Lord and helped plot the demise of the British wizarding government. When Harry's parents were killed, Moyhan disappeared, only to reappear after Voldemort regained his body. He is older and now has two advanced degrees from American universities in the muggle sciences. So, Doctor Andrew Moyhan did not remain idle while Voldemort was incorporeal.

Ron was staring at the photograph, trying to match this slightly built man with the screaming, curse flinging Death Eater who had flown so wildly at Tonk's broom. That man had seemed so much larger then. He recalled the skull-like mask with red chevron markings on the cheeks and intense white-rimmed eyes behind it. Those eyes wanted him dead. He could feel it. Stunning Moyhan and watching him fall through the clouds had not given Ron the satisfaction he had anticipated. Now the man was alive after all; and that brought him no satisfaction whatsoever. He turned back to his team leader.

"Do you reckon that, since Burke and Kerwin are known to be at the South Pole, that Harry and I don't need disguises? Will Moyhan show up at the American base while we're there?

Harry was looking through some of the other papers in the folder. He looked up at Lazare.

"We have Moyhan's travel request for the year to the Berkley physics college finance department. He has a sponsored research grant from the United States Department of Energy. He is traveling to Chicago; Tokyo, Japan; the Princeton Plasma Physics Lab in New Jersey; and Paris, France. That covers his schedule through March of next year. No trip to Antarctica while we're there."

Aye, Auror Potter, I've already decided to drop the disguises. I don't expect any other wizards on that frozen wasteland while you're there."

"Woo-ha! That's great news!" Ron grinned and pounded his fist on the table. "I'm not going to lose sleep over that! No charms to keep up with."

"I'm not going with you, either. Robards, himself, wants me to use my muggle contacts to chase down what these fugitives are doing with their science work. MACUSA is being very uncooperative. I've thought about it and I want Harry to run this operation. Sorry Ron, but your whining about Malfoy forced me to choose Harry, this time. Next mission, Ron, next mission….OK?"

"Yes sir, I'm good with that." Ron nodded his head, realizing that he actually was.

"So that's it, then. Potter, you and Weasley, and Granger, geologists studying the volcano. She's the lead researcher, Hermione Granger from University of Bristol, doctorate in volcanology. We've set her background with a number of highly respected papers on magma displacement and fault propagation. You are her research assistants. I know you've been studying. You will need to speak intelligently about the local geology.

"I believe we are ready enough; as long as we don't talk to real geologists for very long." said Ron.

Harry commented, "We will try to make acquaintances with people in other sciences. I also think Hermione can help us research those neutrino projects. Oh…that reminds me…what we have to be careful of. The base uses computers for almost everything and there are lots of electronics there too. We have to watch where we use our magic or we will cause some problems."

"Yeah, even when we're by ourselves. We have those lap computers and we can't risk breaking them." Ron got a faraway look. "Hermione's been showing me how to use it and use the internal webs to send emails and pictures. It really is very convenient. Muggles have a lot of things that make up for not using magic."

Harry let out a sigh. "Ron, we've already been told the computers are only affected by magic when they are on. When they are off, we can perform anything and they don't get hurt. We don't have to be so careful."

"Right, I guess I worry too much about that. I don't want to damage the equipment we have to use. Too bad we can't protect them somehow."

Lazare spoke up. "Truly that is not our concern. You just need to follow the prescribed precautions as I know you will. I joke around about your abilities as Aurors and I know it gets under your skin at times. However, I believe you to be very capable and have full confidence that you will successfully complete this mission. Yes, you gentlemen have come along much more quickly than we had expected. Now that I have assured you of my admiration of your abilities, I shall leave you to look over the detailed information we obtained from the States' National Science Foundation. Tomorrow at noon I expect an outline of a plan for bringing our two newly minted scientists to a meeting with the prosecutors of the British MLE. As for me, I am headed home to a well-deserved night in bed. Harry, Ron; goodnight.

Lazare reached into his briefcase and pulled out a thick manila folder printed with the large letters 'NSF' and 'USAP'. He tossed it the short distance to land on the table in front of Ron, then turned and walked out the door. Ron opened the folder and began rifling through the sheets within. His eyes were concentrated on the main titles on each page as he pulled out the ones that showed direct connection to the fugitives or the projects named by Lazare.

Harry waited for pages to be placed in front of him and sorted each by subject as he received it. Ron was good at making quick decisions based on scanty information. This was only the first filter. They would work together to pull relevant details from these growing piles of paper. He had just started the stack for AMANDA when Lazare threw open the conference room door.

"Weasley, Potter. There's an attack going on at St. Mungo's. At least five individuals. We're going with the night watch to stop this. No real information on what they're doing. Can't apparate through the wards and the Floo's been closed. Let's move gentlemen; I expect to…

A silver otter passed through the wall, flying directly to Ron. Hermione's voice burst forth.

"Ron! A group of wizards have attacked the mental ward here. They're trying to take Luna. I'm in a room with her and Nurse O'Dwyer. She's been hurt. We need help!"

All three men rushed out to the emergency Floo exit and emerged in the alley behind the Ministry.

"St. Mungo's front!" Lazare ordered and spun on his heel to disappear with a pop. Ron and Harry followed, emerging in front of Aurors Berwhick and Hamilton. Hamilton was already speaking rapidly to Lazare.

"We can't get a response from inside. No one can let us in, but Ren is working on getting through with the emergency protocols. We should be in within…"

Berwhick shouted, "It's open! Go inside, use the stairwell on the left but be careful of traps on the way and warding at the doorways. This group is well organized."

Hamilton ran to the lifts and began setting up blocking shields to prevent escape through that route.

Lazare's team moved up the stairwell, each alternating to take the lead and the risk on activating traps. Ron thought the pace was painfully slow, but knew they had no choice. His worry for Hermione resulted in deep cut on his forearm. He kept his mind on task after that. Lazare reached the seventh-floor entrance, checked through the window, stepped back and blasted the door down. All three men ran through into passageway obscured with wispy white smoke. Ron pushed ahead toward Luna's room when the cacophony of noise reached him. Moaning, screaming and crying from the rooms dominated the sound spectrum. Snippets of coherent voices reached him more frequently as he neared the room.

"Tim's patronis! The ap wards are down."

"I've dropped Granger. Les, grab the blonde. We are leaving! Rally point."

"Dahlia's hurt but I'll get her. Weasley's here, and Potter!"

"Leave her and get to the rally! I'm holding until I hear you leave."

Ron raised his wand as he saw a blond man with a bandana mask dash across the hall to Luna's room at the same time he heard a loud popping sound. He was too far away and couldn't hex the man.

"I have Dahlia; leaving n…shit! Mudblood grabbed me! Sticking charm!"

"Take her then! Two Aurors are on me. Go now!"

Ron sprinted into the room and saw three people spin away to nothingness. Looking around he registered the wreck that was Luna's living space. Beside the door lay Beth O'Dwyer, her shaky hands holding together a large gash across her midsection. Ron knelt down beside her.

He yelled out the door. "We need healers in here!" Turning to her, he spoke softly. "You're doing fine, just stay with me. Help is on the way."

Beth looked him in the eye. "I know, but it still h-hurts. Th-they took Luna. No trace….removed the trace. B-but I f-ffixed. Tr—uh—trace on Hermione's trousers….simple…easy to spot. You can find."

Two healers quickly set up beside her.

"Hey Beth, it's Xavier and Tina. Got in the way of a spell, I see. Well, we're going to take care of that. Just a little swallow of this and you'll feel better."

Ron turned as Harry and Lazare walked in. "Lazare, how do we track a trace?"


	14. If you got a lady and you want her gone

**A/N: I don't recall writing that Lucius or Draco are nice guys in this story.**

/-/-/-/

 **Chapter 14: If you got a lady and you want her gone.**

"Bloody blue buggering bollocks, this thing is a shit storm" muttered Nathan Stroud.

The apparition wards should have dropped by now. They should have had the Lovegood woman by now. He never expected an operation to run perfectly but Murphy was making a real barney out of this. It was evening shift; only two nurses, not the four they found here. It's Wednesday. What was the Granger girl doing here? Her visits were set for Thursdays.

"Les!"

A red haired man turned from pushing a frantic middle-aged woman into a room. "Sir?"

"Finish up with the Longbottoms an' go to the stairs ta set surprises for the Aurors. We're not gettin' out afore they show. Be careful! Don' hurt her! That's not our job here."

"You know how to pick 'em Nate. Granger's a hard one."

"How 'bout you stop flappin' yer yap and get yer fecking job done." Nathan turned his head. "Dahlia!"

"Ya Nate?"

"Patronis Tim. Push him about the wards. Tell the lazy sod I want some action now! Then get back ta set traps on the lifts. I'm with Ben on Lovegood and Granger!"

Dahlia immediately strode toward the passageway to the lifts.

Nathan ducked away from a spell that left Lovegood's doorway. It struck the floor with no apparent effect. He turned to move toward Ben and promptly fell to his back on the floor.

He shouted toward the trapped women, "Ah! Braw hex there, Granger. Glisseo?"

"Glad you liked it, Nate. You can leave us alone now!"

"Naw. Just here for little blondie. You shove her out the door, an' we'll leave ye alone. An' ye shoudna told me ya know my name."

"I'm not giving her up to you. Oh! Ow!" A portion of the door frame had exploded, sending shrapnel in all directions.

Ben yelled from across the hall, "Whatcha think o' that, ya mudblood bitch!"

Nathan counter-spelled the slippery floor and turned to see Ben's blond hair behind a cart in an alcove. He caught the other attacker behind the ear with a tiny stinging hex.

"Shit! The fuck, Nate!"

"This here's an operation. So, ye keep yer head in the game and yer feckin' slurs to yerself! Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah, goh-it"

Ben pulled the cart so that he was close to Nathan who, keeping his eye on the door, started whispering to him.

"Just keep them hiding 'til we can get in there!"

"I know, I know, an' don't hurt blondie. Wha 'bout the others?"

"No killin' unless you have to and Granger comes out alive, no matter what."

"Can I hurt her?"

"Sha, but don' do anythin' permanent. We don't want the whole Ministry on us. Go back ta th' other side o' the door."

On the way back, the cart suddenly slammed Ben against the wall behind him. It held him there for a few seconds before Nathan forced the Protego back to the other wall. Ben pushed the cart away and wiped his bloodied lips. Sneering, he hurled four spells in quick succession through the door to Lovegood's room. The first ruptured the shield. Gray smoke started flowing out through the top of the door. Nathan scowled at him.

"Stuff it, Nate; I dinnae hit anyone. She's got the bed on its side. I jus' spun it to knock her 'round a little."

"What's afire?"

"Mattress. Burns pretty easy."

A shout came from inside the room. "Not any more. Two wands make a lot of water, you morons!"

He sat still and pondered how to break this stalemate as he watched Ben occasionally throw a random hex into Lovegood's room.

Dahlia trotted up to Nate. "Lifts are done; anyone passing the fifth floor's gonna be burned somethin' awful."

"What about Les?"

"He's still on the stairs. Dinnae fash yerself, he's an artist. They ain't coming here without a few bumps and bruises. What's with the smoke? We still have ta see, ya know."

Nate pointed his chin over toward Ben. "Talk to th' dunderheed o're there. He's not hold'n his temper….again. I ken he's Les' brother, but that scunner's pooched things up so many times, I just wan 'im gone.

Dahlia smiled, "Maybe he'll walk inta a blade, kinda soft like."

"Les'll ken it was you. 'Sides, we don' dust our own. Even Ben follows that rule. Enough of this. How're we gonna get blondie without killin' her or the mighty missy? We don't have time ta wait her out."

"Wait on Les, then rush 'em? Let the idiot take point?"

"No. He'll waste one, sure. Ya mind Aberdeen? The Laird's lass?"

Les walked up then grinning. "Sha, I mind…the Cunt Stubble. Fair ta say, he did shoot Ben with that muggle firearm."

"Aye, but we'll not see Aberdeen for a long bit, not with the muggle law lookin'. Yer brother cannae stun and obliv? He's a hothead, an' ye ken it rightly. Ya ready for the show?"

"Stair's done. They're in for a good wallap! I'm up fer a fight. Still Granger and that nurse?

"Aye, 'tis." Nathan pointed to the corner where the passageway turned to the left. "Les, you hook it past the door an' make for that cover. Dahl, you trail, but to the door. See if ya can drop one while they're tracking Les"

Dahlia nodded and moved toward the far side of the passageway. Les took two steps, prepared to run and looked back at Nathan. By that time, Dahlia was in position and watching him. He put his hand up and started the silent countdown. Five…four…..three….

A clattering sound and a loud "Oof" came from the room. It was followed by a scream of pain. All three heads turned toward the door. A low moaning started but was quickly replaced by Ben's excited shout.

"Ha! Gutted ye that time. Ye'll no forget that'un, ye fancy-arse bitch! Not feelin' like a hero now, eh?!"

He turned toward Les. "I split 'er right open. Bleedin' like a stuck pig."

A light thud warned him and he dove left as a drawer, raining knickers on the passageway floor, struck the wall where his head had been. That was followed by a jet of yellow light that caught the edge of the cart and spun it into his arm.

Ben jumped up roaring, "Ya fecking arse whore. I'll cut out yer bits and feed 'em to a thestral!"

Flash after flash erupted from his wand. To Nathan they all looked like Reducto's and the door frame was taking the most damage. He had to do something, so he called out.

"Les! Ye better or I will."

Les stood and raised his wand arm. "Ben!" he shouted.

Ben glanced over and saw the end of his brother's wand pointed at him. He stopped hurling curses and moved back behind the cart. He pointed his wand at the wheels and stuck the cart to the floor. He looked at Les, who was still threatening him. "Les, she's gagging fer a lesson! She doesnae ken how ta treat her betters."

"Naw, Ben. We're paid ta snatch 'n not kill anyone. Ye still ken that? Don't make me bind…

A shiny otter patronis pierced the wall from the room and streaked between the two brothers to the opposite wall and out of the building. Dahlia caught Nathan's eye and nodded toward the point where the otter exited. "We're in it now."

"Aye, but we figured it when we got here and things went sideways. We can finish this. There's only one now 'n my money says it's Granger."

Nathan turned to the two brothers. "Les! Ben!"

Both men turned, then flinched as another levitated drawer slammed into the cart. The wheels remained solidly affixed to the floor as the wooden projectile splintered and bounced off the frame.

Nathan pointed to Ben. He held up his open hand and then pointed his wand at the door, miming the motion for a hex. Then he did a five-second countdown with his fingers, mimed the hex again and opened his hand. Ben nodded and immediately sent a stunner into Luna's room and looked back at Nathan. The leader pointed at Les and then at the corner he'd been ordered to before. Turning toward Dahlia he saw her nod and move to her previous position. He held up his hand again but was interrupted by a silvery hedgehog popping up through the floor in front of him.

Tim's voice whispered, "Johnny law is here, one more stone and you can apparate. I have to be slower and look like a muggle."

Nathan took a deep breath through his nose and looked at the redhead. "How long?"

Les thought a moment. "They'll be in the building in a hot second. No lifts; they'll set capture spells on those. I set the stairs good…uh…normal night watch, I ken it'll be 20-25 minutes. Experienced team?..maybe 6 or 8. If they suss out they can apparate, we're done."

"Fecking barney. Money's good though. Cannae use it when dead or in Azkaban. This is our time, right now. Ready?"

Les moved into position, nodded and watched Nathan's raised hand. Nathan had his eyes on Ben. The next spell left Ben's wand, Nathan counted two seconds and started the five-second countdown. Ben sent another spell an instant before the Nathan formed a fist. Les sprinted toward the bend in the passageway, crossing in front of the door. Dahlia was running toward the door one second later. She quickly reached a position where she could see inside. She looked into the room and her eyes widened. Still moving, she raised her wand, beginning the motion to stun. Suddenly, the floor had no friction and she was sliding forward unable to stop. She started a different wand motion but was interrupted by her left side striking the door frame. Dahlia spun anticlockwise into the room. Nathan saw her attempt to stand then get hurled back by a jet of light. She slid down the wall.

"Fecking bitch. I'm gonna make ya beg me to kill ye!"

Ben began his onslaught of destructive spells. Surprisingly, Les was also throwing curse upon curse into the doorway. They both began slowly moving toward the door maintaining a multicolored light show of hexes flowing into the room. Smoke started filling the passageway up by the ceiling. The smoke and noise were upsetting the patients who started a chorus of yelling, moaning and crying. An explosion at the far end of the building heralded the arrival of the Aurors. Les and Ben stopped the attack and swiftly moved back to their defensive positions. Voices drifted out of the room

"Hermione, they'll kill you! I have to go."

"No. Stay here. The Aurors will come soon. We can hold them off."

"Let go! I don't want to watch you die. Please!"

Nathan pointed his wand at the floor and countered the Glisseo. Sprinting forward he saw Granger trying to restrain Lovegood. She heard him and turned, raising her wand. He caught her in the chest with a stunner, which threw her into the charred mattress behind her. Her wand flew out of her hand and behind the bed. She looked at him with wide eyes before collapsing into unconsciousness.

Les spoke, "Tim's patronis! The ap wards are down."

Nathan swiftly moved out of the room to go hold off the Aurors long enough for his people to apparate out. He pushed Lovegood out ahead of him, while yelling at the others. "I've dropped Granger. Les, grab the blonde. We are leaving! Rally point."

He heard her squeak of pain and then the sound of Les sidelonging her out of the building. He reached the main desks and ducked down as an Auror entered the area.

He heard Ben yelling, "Dahlia's hurt but I'll get her. Weasley's here, and Potter!"

He rose up to hex the redheaded Auror in the back but heard a noise and barely got his Protego up in time. He recognized Potter.

He watched Weasley continue toward Ben. It was time to cut their losses. "Leave her and get to the rally! I'm holding until I hear you leave."

Ben didn't listen to him and instead replied, "I have Dahlia; leaving n…shit! Mudblood grabbed me! Sticking charm!"

There was nothing for it so he made a decision. "Take her then! Two Aurors are on me. Go now!"

Nathan continued to hold his own but knew Potter and the older Auror were positioning themselves for his capture. He had only seconds left when he heard Ben apparate out. He spun on his heal and disappeared just as a bludgeoning hex struck his arm. He heard a bone break.

He landed in the alley next to an unconscious Dahlia. He was painfully jostled by a kicking and scratching Granger trying to pull Ben to the ground. In an uncharacteristic display of self-control, Ben pointed his wand and muttered, "Petrificus Totalus". Granger froze in place, which allowed Ben to counter her sticking charm.

Nathan ignored his pain and rennervated Dahlia. She moaned and reached up to her left collarbone. The skin around it was turning a spectacular dark blue.

Les was the first to construct a coherent sentence. "I removed the mental patient trace. It was easy thanks to the information our customer gave us."

Tim looked at Nathan. "Well, we're all here. So, where to now?"

"The warehouse near Barking Reach, inside the north entrance."

They all apparated immediately. He looked around and picked up two knuts, three galleons, and a button from Granger's shirt. Then he removed the scuff marks on the muddy bricks and spun away to the warehouse.

He arrived to a scene of Tim pointing his wand at a seated Dahlia's collarbone. "Episkey", he muttered.

She winced and turned away. "Feckin' hell, hurts every time."

Nathan looked at the others. Lovegood was sitting in a sturdy chair while Les placed manacles on her ankles. She was shaking, tears flowing down her face. On the other side of the room, Ben was wrestling with Granger, who was putting up a admirable resistance. He had been forced to remove the Petrificus so she could be put in the chair. Nathan simply stood there watching them and waited for the explosion. He shook his head when her foot struck Ben's upper thigh. He knew what was next but he still jumped when Ben backhanded her across the face. She stopped struggling.

"Ben!", he yelled. "Stand down!" Ben moved away from Granger.

Nathan pointed his wand at the witch, walked over and knelt down to face her. Her hair was wild, face smudged with black soot and she had a small split on her lower lip. The swinging of her unusual pendant necklace caught his eye. It was a large rune painted with a reddish-brown coating. He pursed his lips when she put her hand to the growing welt on her cheek. He kept his voice low and calm.

"Miss Granger; I ken yer a cannie lass. Ye got a keek o' Ben at Mungo's during the snatch; so ye shoulda figured that slap was comin'. I have a job ta do here. Ye can be layin' out in pain with broken arms and legs for it or ye can be comfortable and whole in this chair. You choose. I think you'll be smart, but Ben here's hot for ye ta be stupid."

Her shoulders slumped. "Chair", she whispered. Moving slowly, she straightened up in the seat, putting her arms and legs in position for the manacles. Ben obliged her by snapping them shut one at a time.

"Thank you, Miss Granger." He turned to Ben, placing a hand on the blonde man's shoulder. "Ben, thenk ye for holdin' back; and for Dahlia."

Ben shrugged and whispered, "Dae ye think I'd ferget we're a team?"

Nathan smiled and shook his head. "Naw, I dinnae".

He looked around for Tim and found the curse breaker in the little kitchen pouring some steaming water into a china cup. He walked slowly over as the throbbing in his forearm finally made sure he couldn't ignore it. "Tim, I need healing here."

Tim looked up and shifted his wand from his sleeve. "Over to the table. Yeah, that looks rough. Greenstick, ya think?"

"Naw. Heard it break 'n I feel it shifting."

"As you say. You want a potion? If you don't, it's going to hurt awful when they join and throb later."

Nathan shook his head. "I cannae keep my wits, when I'm jaked"

Tim raised one eyebrow and swept his hand toward the table. "You know the drill. Lay it flat."

Grimacing as he twisted his arm out, he put it on the table, palm up.

"Looks like it's only the ulna. Two breaks; separated here and greenstick…here. This'll take two spells. I'll set the separation first. Then we'll…"

"Haud yer wheesht! I dinnae need a story!", he spat out. Nathan was getting shaky as he tried to hold his arm in place.

"No problem. Episkey!"

"Feck! Oh, ye sadistic bastart!

Ted just smiled and waved his hand in a small circle. "Twist your arm a quarter turn. You would think people would learn to speak nicely to their healers. There it is…stop turning. Episkey!"

"Shite! Yer mum's a feckin' whore!"

"Now, that wasn't nice. I'm not sure there'll be enough potion by the time we're done with our guests and I'll probably be too tired to make any right away."

Puffing in and out to control the pain, Nathan made a rude gesture with his good hand. He walked slowly back to the room with the two women. Ben, Les and Dahlia were all sitting in the more comfortable chairs. Les and Dahlia were having a whispered discussion while Ben scanned an old Quidditch magazine. Granger's head was tilted forward but quickly raised when he walked in the room. She followed his movement. Lovegood still had tears dripping, and she was breathing rapidly.

"Dahlia, it's time"

She nodded, stood and walked out of the room toward the kitchen.

Les stretched and said, "Ye don' need me fer this. I'm away fer a kip. Yuptae, Ben?"

Ben grinned at his brother. "Stayin' ta watch"

"Les, yer gonna stay. Ye cannae kip through this. You write down everything."

Les immediately moved back to his recently vacated chair, plopped down in a huff and pulled a notebook from the table. Dahlia strode into the room with two thin different-length knives and a large towel. Granger's eyes widened at the sight and she started to struggle uselessly against her restraints. Lovegood didn't seem to notice Dahlia at all. Tim pulled a small trunk from a cabinet, opened it and started pulling out potion bottles. A few moments later Tim moved the last bottle into place and looked up. "Ready.", he said.

Nathan pulled two plain wooden chairs over toward Lovegood. He placed one close to the woman's right side. Dahlia immediately sat there and slid the knives in two slots in a block of wood attached to the chair. "Ready." she stated. Nathan turned his chair so it faced away from Lovegood, then he sat in it backwards so he looked at her.

"Luna, we need to talk….about New York City and some buildings that will fall. What do you know about that?"

Her blue eyes widened. "I-I don't know much about it, really."

"I am sure you know more than anyone here, except maybe Granger there. I'm really interested in what you know." He turned toward the grunting and struggling bushy haired witch. "Hermione, please calm. Ye cannae free yerself and Luna's a wee bit peely-wally as 'tis."

"I don't want you to hurt her. I'll tell you everything you want to know."

"I want to know everything Luna knows. Dae ye ken all she does?"

Granger shook her head. Nathan nodded once at her and spun back to Lovegood.

"I don't want to hurt you either, Luna. When will the buildings fall?"

"September 11, 2001 i-in the m-morning."

"What makes them fall?"

"Airplanes. Hijacked airplanes hit the towers. A group of Muslims called Al Qaeda."

"Who told you about this? Was it Al Qaeda?"

"No. I remembered when it happened. I saw it when I was 9 years old."

"Are you a seer?"

"No. I can't do magic. I used the rune, the one Hermione has, and it gave me these memories."

"How did you use the rune?"

"I d-don't know."

"You don't know?" Nathan turned to Granger. "How did she use the rune, Hermione?"

Granger looked back with an open expression. "I don't know. I have been trying to figure out how she did it."

He looked at Dahlia and quirked up an eyebrow. She smiled and pulled out the shorter knife. Nathan wiped his hand across his face. He was trying, really trying to hold his temper but his arm hurt intensely and he was tired. His anger wouldn't help the situation. He needed to be the one who comforted Luna, especially when the torture started. She would see him as her refuge even if she logically knew he was directing the infliction of pain. He let out a slow breath. Dahlia placed the towel on the arm of the chair so it was touching the length of Lovegood's forearm.

"Luna, don't look at Dahlia; look at me. No matter what happens, look at my eyes. I will get you through this." He reached up and turned her head so her frightened eyes were looking into his. He reached out and put his hands in her shaking ones. Then he smiled at her.

"No. No Luna; keep your eyes on me. That's it, right here. Good. Now, we have a problem, both of us. It is a big problem; maybe more than you can handle yourself. That's ok, though. I will carry you through it. You see, I don't think you have told us everything you know and you need to do that. Dahlia, please help her tell us what she knows about the people behind the destruction of the towers. No, Luna. Keep your eyes here. It will help you."

Dahlia moved the short knife to Luna's forearm, angling it almost parallel to the axis of the arm and at a very small angle raised above the skin. She pushed in and moved the blade along the skin at the same time. This allowed the knife to slide under the skin and separate a two-inch strip from the muscles underneath. Dark red blood flowed down to the towel. With the knife in this position, Dahlia very slowly moved it up Luna's arm for about three inches, separating skin from muscle as she went. Several things happened at once. Luna let out a high pitched sobbing scream and squeezed Nathan's hands fiercely. Hermione immediately fought harder against her manacles and began pleading with Nathan and Dalia to stop.

Nathan kept his eyes locked on Luna's. "It's ok. It's fine. You can just tell us who told you about the plan for the towers. You will be just fine." He addressed Ben without breaking the connection to Luna. "Ben, please silence Miss Granger and make her restraints quieter. She is frightening Luna, and I don't wish to frighten Luna."

Quickly Ben grinned evilly and brandished his wand to point it at Granger. Her eyes indicated fright before he executed the hex that stopped her voice and kept the shackles from clattering.

Nathan waited until the room was silent with the exception of Luna's sobs. He gave her hands a light squeeze. "I know it hurts, but maybe it reminded you that you have to give up the information about the plan for those buildings. So, do you have anything to tell me?"

"I don't know anything! P-p-please! Only a man named Osama B-b-bin Laden wh-who lived in caves in Afghanistan."

"A hermit in a cave makes planes fly into buildings? If he is not a wizard then I don't find this believable. I'm sorry, but I think there is more. I hope you can understand that I have no choice in this. You will need to squeeze my hands. I expect it and am here to help you cope with this. Don't be ashamed of your reaction to pain. Lean on me."

Dahlia knew her cue. She gripped the sharp knife and sliced further along Luna's forearm with agonizing slowness, separating three more inches of skin. The action seemed to stretch out for minutes. Nathan was aware of Granger's increased frenzy that even the silencing charm could not completely mask. The vibrations of her movement could be felt through the floor. During the cutting, Luna made no coherent vocalizations; only the same sobbing scream. He kept his eyes on hers even though hers were closed through the entire cutting process. When she opened them she was looking into his eyes. He smiled and squeezed her hands in support. She pushed herself to speak.

"Please! O-oh G-g-god. No more! I c-c-can't t-t-take any more. I don't kn-kn-know anything el-else."

"I'm afraid I really don't believe you. So, you have to tell us who told you about the plan for the buildings."

"I don't know anything!"

"I'd like to think that is true, but there has to be more and we must help you express it. Who told you about the plans given to Osama Bin Laden?"

"No one! Pleas-se. Th-the r-rr-rune put the m-memories i-in! Please. Oh P-please. I can't do it again."

"I know you want me to believe that, but Luna I can't take the chance that you are hiding something. You know that I have to push you further." He reached up and touched her tear streaked face. "Just a little more. I am sure you will be able to give us the entire truth. Dahlia, if you please."

Dahlia slid the knife slowly upward and Luna screamed louder than before. Nathan noticed that Granger became completely still after a brief highly energetic attempt to free herself. Suddenly he felt a powerful surge of something that must be magical energy. Before he could really consider what it was, a bright flash to his right preceded intense pain and a tremendous shove which carried him, Luna and Dahlia away from the flash; into darkness and blessed oblivion.


	15. Sing me a song of a lass that is gone

**A/N: Dear Guest Rowling,**

 **I don't consider your critique to be very accurate. One does not get charged for murder if the government does not classify the killing as murder. This is regardless of who else thinks it is murder. The Second Wizarding War started, officially declared a war, in June 1996 after the Battle at the Department of Mysteries. This was well before Draco started his mission to kill Dumbledore. Draco was coerced, not to commit a murder, but to become a member of Voldemort's fighting force which was at war with the British Ministry of Magic and, by extension, the Order of the Phoenix. As a combatant in a war, Draco's attempts to kill Dumbledore, also a combatant, would not be murder. (cite: The assassination of Admiral Yamamoto by US airmen specifically sent to kill him; or more recently, drone attacks against ISIS militant leaders in their homes).**

 **I have not found in J.K. Rowling's writings any reference to Draco deciding against fleeing England because of his family's assets. There is some indication that he feared for his own life and that of his family in the discussion with Dumbledore on the astronomy tower. Perhaps you could point me to the particular passages in the books that support your statement.**

 **The punishment for performing an Unforgivable is "a one-way ticket to Azkaban" as per Barty Crouch Jr. in Goblet of Fire. There is no mention of punishment for failed attempts to perform said magic. Regardless, the punishment is not the Dementors kiss; otherwise Bellatrix, her husband, her brother in law, and Barty Crouch Jr. would all have been dead prior to Harry going to Hogwarts in the first book. If the punishment was as absolute as you and Barty Crouch say, then why wasn't Barty immediately whisked away to prison for using the Imperious on schoolchildren? Also, Harry used two different Unforgivables, one on Bellatrix and one on the goblin banker. Even if you are a racist and feel that goblins don't deserve justice, Harry should still be in Azkaban for using it on Bellatrix if that punishment was absolute. Since he was at the station to send his son Albus off to Hogwarts, I am inclined to believe that in the British Ministry of Magic, the wheels of justice turn a bit differently than you indicate in your critique. Absolutes are for children; British law does not contain absolutes.**

 **Besides, this story is AU. Also, to set things a little straighter, I am neither a fan of Draco nor a female.**

 **/-/-/-/**

 **15\. Sing me a song of a lass that is gone**

She wasn't sure she was conscious, but there shouldn't be this much pain when out cold. It even hurt to breathe. Wait! Breathing. No one thinks about breathing when they're dreaming. And the smells! Not one dream she'd ever had was filled with such strong smells. She recognized, chai tea, candle wax, roast meat and body odor;….and is that urine? No, she was not unconscious.

The mirrors, though, all those mirrors had to be when she was not awake. The voices that didn't make sounds had to be part of her dreaming but that seemed really familiar. She was still disoriented. She remembers they were all female. How does she know that if they made no sound? They were saying to use all her senses and go. Now that she had gone, at their behest, where was she? Why was her mind so scrambled? Opening her eyes, she saw pitch black, giving her no visual input.

The pain was lessening and now just felt like she had worked out too much. At least she could breathe more easily. She tried to reach down and rub her aching thighs but couldn't. Her wrists were shackled in metal rings! It was a wooden chair that held her by her wrists and ankles. Had she been kidnapped? She tried to remember but it was all foggy. The last she could remember, there were other women with her. Flashes of light, and some yelling. Hands trying to hold her down, then the others were screaming and crying. What did her captors want? Where were they? Was this some kind of solitary confinement? Shaking her head did nothing to clear it. Instead, the slight throbbing grew to overwhelming and she had to breathe slowly to control the urge to retch.

The forced calm eventually allowed her to be still enough to hear low noises in the quiet. Breathing that was not her own. More than one other. She opened her mouth to minimize the noise her own exhalations made. The different sounds started sorting themselves out in her fuzzy brain. A disjointed soft scraping to the left front of her. A whispery grunting or moaning to her right. The lower tone suggested it was a man but none of the sounds were really coherent. Suddenly a loud inhalation noise broke the quiet on her left. It was followed by a moan, another inhale, then a woman's raised voice.

"What the fecking hell was that?"

A man's voice, lower volume and slow. "Shite! That's too loud, Dahl. My feckin' head's breakin' open. Just hold 'til I can put it together."

She decided to make some kind of contact with the others. "Hello?"

The man spoke quickly. "Keep quiet!"

She tried again anyway. "Where are we?"

"Haud yer wheesht, ye yammerin' woman! Och! That hurts!

"Nate, I'm pinned under blondie 'n her chair. She's comin' 'round; gonna start yellin'.

A man groaned to her right. "Oh my head! Nate?

"Tim. Fit like?"

"I hurt like hell all over, but nothing keeping me from moving. Dahlia's trapped? How 'bout you?"

"Ankle maybe. Can't light the place. No wand. You do it?"

"Do you think it's safe? We don't know what happened."

"Havetae. Cannae tell how balls up it is like this. I ken it's…

"Ahhhh! Don't! P-please stop. I-I'm telling th mm-mmm—mmm!

"Dahl, ye keepin' her quiet?"

"Ya Nate, she's in a real flap. Tim? Ye got somethin' to simmer her?

"Got broken bottles here; I'm cut too. Can't tell you."

"How 'bout those lights, Tim."

"Aye, Nate."

A small flash lit off in front of and slightly to her right, moving around. She leaned forward curious. Suddenly the room brightened and she pulled back from her shackles, squeezing her eyes shut.

Dahlia was still struggling. "Tim, I cannae hold her fer longer like this. We need her doon."

Cracking open her eyelids slightly showed an abbreviated scene of devastation a bit out of focus. A brown-haired man was sitting a short distance ahead, one hand shading his eyes. To his left, a chair lay on its side with a struggling blond woman in it. Trying to restrain her was another woman with her legs and lower torso trapped under the chair's side. Blinking rapidly, she opened her eyes fully which brought her vision closer to focus but somehow made her more nauseous.

"Naw, she stays up 'til we get a'thing we're after. Tim, calmin' drink for her. Ye ken?"

"I don't think I have anything here. Most everything is broken."

So this this man is Nate and Dahlia is the woman under the chair. She turned her head slowly and saw a man squatting down and moving his left hand through a small pile of bottles, removing the unbroken ones. She was still dizzy but the urge to vomit was lessening. A noise on her left drew her attention to Nate righting the chair while Dahlia kept her hands over the blonde's mouth. Both women had bright red blood splotches in many places. She thought she recognized the young woman bound to the chair but her mind was still unable to pull the information up. Seeing the situation, she realized that both she and the blonde were the prisoners and the rest were their captors.

"Och! My heed! Isnae gonna let me move."

The man named Tim turned to one of two men lying next to a couple toppled over chairs. "Be still, Ben. Wait until the whole body pain gets smaller. Then try to feel if any part is really damaged. I'll be in the kitchen to fix Nate's ankle and bring something for your pain and her cuts.", he said, indicating the other captive. He got up and slowly moved to one of the doors with Nate leaning on him. She turned to look at Dahlia who was using a towel to press against the bleeding forearm of the other woman while whispering to the sobbing blonde. She watched the interaction for a bit and saw the poor woman was calming down at least. It was then she noticed the room was lit only by candles. She whipped her head around but that's all she saw. Still disoriented she felt that candles were wrong but also right. Mulling over how she could so easily embrace this contradiction, she sat and watched the other two women.

"Oi, witch! Yer nae gammie. Fir why?"

Rotating her head, she saw Ben watching her closely. She replied, "I was hurt, just not fallen over."

"How'd ye do this?", he asked, indicating the destruction in the room.

"I don't understand what you mean."

Ben dismissively waved his hand at her and turned to the other man still laying to his left. He swept his arm striking the leg that was closest. The leg rolled slightly then shifted back to its former position.

"Les, ye lazy sod. Ye takin' a kip?" There was no movement from Les. "Yupta, Les? Cut yer playin'."

There was no response and Ben sat looking at his brother a moment. Then he scrambled over to the other man, concern descending on his features "Les!"

Dahlia spoke up. "Yer a'right?"

"Oh no…oh no" Ben began shaking Les and getting no response "Les! Come on, s'me…Ben…wake up!"

He turned toward the door the other men had exited through. She moved her gaze there also. Ben yelled, "Ted! Les is hurt bad! M'here! Now! Move like billyo!"

A clattering preceded Tim's quick entry into the room, with Nate limping behind him. He moved efficiently to kneel and lean over the prone figure. His back was to her as he moved his hands quickly over the man's chest and neck. Meanwhile, Nate firmly shifted the panicky Ben away from the motionless man and his rescuer. Ted pulled something from his robes (he was wearing robes?) and leaned in close to his patient's chest. She saw a flash and the body jerked. Another flash; another twitch. The healer continued to work on Les, hands traveling over the unmoving head, neck and chest.

The entire time, Ben was fidgeting and pacing a very short line, while Nate kept a hand lightly on his shoulder. Every few turns, the worried man would look over at her with utter hatred. It was enough to make her flinch. Nate was whispering to him throughout his distress. Finally, Ted looked up and began, "Ben, I'm sorry, he…."

The rest of the healer's statement was drowned out by Ben's scream of anguish. He tried to move away from the other two but was stopped by hands on his shoulders. The blond man looked like bundled energy, repeatedly wiping his hand across his face and talking at Nate. The leader held Ben's shoulders trying to calm the younger man. She couldn't hear anything from Nate but Ben's exhortations were occasionally loudly punctuated with "Brother!", "She!", "Dead!" and "Spell!". Despite the older man's best attempts, the blonde was getting more and more agitated. Looking in Nate's eyes he flung his arm toward her and shouted, "Her fault, Nate! Her! And ye wan' me ta drop it? Th' feckin' hell I will!" He pushed Nate's hands off him and started to turn. He was pulled forcefully back around by the older man.

Ben lost control completely. He grabbed Nates arms, pulled close and continued the motion, twisting and throwing the bigger man on top of Ted and Les. After the release, he moved though the turn to stalk toward her. She saw murder in his eyes and pushed back in her chair as far as possible. Realizing the futility of the action induced a whimper to pass her lips.

"Ben! No!" Dahlia's shout made her shift her glance to the woman. Before she could look back, an impact forced her head to whip to the side and had pain exploding behind her eyes. Her teeth rattled. She tasted blood from her cut tongue. There was no time to dwell as her air was cut off by his large hands on her neck lifting her off the seat. Her wrists uncomfortably pulled at the manacles. She twisted in his grasp catching sight of his eyes. There was nothing but anger. "I'll watch ye die, murderin' bitch!" His grip tightened and she was held so he could look into her eyes. She tried closing them but he shook her unmercifully until she opened them again. She felt her vision blacken on the sides as her consciousness waned.

Suddenly, the hands left her throat. She fell to the seat and pulled in a stinging lungful of air. She swam up from her blackout and heard yelling, some small swishing sounds and a loud thud. The increase in awareness put the pain of her face's throbbing right side to the forefront. She looked to the left at Nate standing over Ben who was unconscious and wrapped in ropes. She must have been out for longer than it appeared.

Dahlia spoke, "Ye said she cannae be killed. I had ta dae somethin' 'n ye said deh dust him."

"I ken yer reasons, thenk ye."

He noticed that she was moving and turned to her. "Ye snuffed one o' my best men. How'd ye do that? The flash and bang; what deh ye do?

She wasn't sure what he was talking about but being knocked about seemed familiar. "I didn't do anything. How could I? I was chained to this chair."

"T'were a pure dead brilliant bit o' spellin'." He chewed his bottom lip as he looked in her eyes a few moments. "Aye, yer goan to out wit' it, easy or hard. Ye mind Dahlia's work on Luna? Ye can get the same."

He looked like he didn't want to do what he was suggesting. Luna? The name seemed right and wrong at the same time. Something clicked into place in her brain and she accepted the blonde as Luna. She looked over and took in the still oozing, neatly fashioned slice on the blonde woman's forearm. She gasped. Torture? He was talking about torture. The realization started her hands shaking.

"N-n-no, I d-d-don't know h-how it happened. I really don't! You have to believe me!"

"Ye may do it again, if we're distracted. I cannae punt wi' this." He reached up and lightly hit her right cheek, sending waves of pain through her head. Turning, he addressed the healer. "Ted. Is blondie simmered?"

Ted looked away from his inspection of Luna's face. "Yes, she is calmer."

"Good. Dahlia, Ted, set up.", he said.

"Aye." they chorused. Tim turned and left for the room he'd come out of earlier.

Nate reached down to lightly slap Ben's face. "Ho! Ben! Ye simmered?"

"Yea.", came the gruff reply.

"I'll nae let ye loose, wi' no promise."

"Aye, I ken. I wantae dust her, sure. Ye let me work her wi' Dahl, an' I'll leave her breathin'."

"No! Ye see here, boy! I cannae have ye gaffer th' team, brother or no. I'll drop ye next ta Les afore ye touch the lass again. Yer a braw hand, when ye haud yer temper, an' I can use ye. Ye obey me or yer gaun oot. Choose!"

"Ye leave me nuthin'!"

"Aye, ye ken it rightly. If she wasnae famous, her friends'd find her in parts. As is, I cannae let ye have yer way."

"As ye say, I shall obey; let this be my solemn oath.", Ben recited.

"Yer oath 'n mine." Nate stepped over the prone man and leaned down. She watched him use a few quick motions to release Ben in an unbelievably short time. Ben sprung to his feet and turned to face her. His features morphed quickly from open hatred to something much more guarded. He stayed there surveying her face and upper body. She felt she had to act as if she were confident. So, she kept her breaths even and her hands still while holding her eyes directly on his. He cocked his head slightly, quirked an eyebrow, and nodded once before turning to walk to his brother's body. Nate watched him a moment, then went to the same room as Tim.

"Well played…strong", whispered Dahlia, twirling a knife in her hands. "Ye'll nae hold it long. Naw, no vera' long. I liked Les. Ye ken? I dae nae like you." She shuddered slightly at the cold-hearted woman's smile as she felt the chill blade track along her jawline. She, again, schooled her outward presentation, and felt a familiarity with that action which caused another puzzle piece to click into place. She was easily able to show emotions that she actually didn't feel. Then another realization, somehow related to her new understanding of herself; Luna was not Luna! She looked at the blonde, who looked back at that moment. Yes. Luna was not her name, most times. Her mind furnished her with that inconsistent thought and she accepted it without question. Her life was falling back into place; she realized she is famous. So, why did these people kidnap her and Luna? Was it for money or just to become anonymously famous? The papers and magazines would surely have reported her missing or, if the snatch was public, finding every angle to present her fate to the public….Luna's too, although she was less renowned.

A sharp sting on her neck brought her out of her reverie and into a reality where Dahlia was smiling sweetly and waggling the freshly bloodied tip of the knife at her. The dark-haired woman sauntered over to Luna's chair and snatched up the towel and turned back. Dahlia grabbed a small chair and dragged it behind her, holding the towel in front of her as she walked back. "Ye deh get a fresh'un.

Tim walked back into the room. "Dahl, you shouldn't try to frighten our guests. Nate has his methods and you should follow them."

"Ye can piss off and so can Nate."

"An' ye can stand doon, an' shut yer yap!", spoke Nate from the doorway. Ben patted his brother's arm, stood, and started walking to their leader.

Suddenly one of the other doors flew open and a person flew through it to land behind Les' body. Dahlia saw it and moved forward pulling something from her pocket. A flash of light and the woman's body fell back against her. Her face filled with sharp throbbing pain, making it difficult to focus. Another flash passed through the doorway followed by two men. The striking red hair of the first broke through her fog and she realized that she knew him. He looked at her, his features showing shock and anger as he turned to move closer. She knew the black-haired bespectacled man too! The two moved almost as one. Their battle with Ben and Nate, wands moving at blinding speed, left her speechless. Increased noise to her right drew her attention. Five more men, dressed the same as the first three, were already in the room. Nate, Ben and Tim fought desperately as they backed through another door. Four of the others pressed forward to toward their exit. One went to the redhead and his companion. He swept his arm in her direction.

"Get them out of here! Don't go to the Ministry yet."

The one with glasses looked at his partner. "Your parents?". The other nodded and immediately went to her.

He smiled and spoke. "Oh my, you get yourself into some real troubles. Let me help you out of here." He leaned down and unlocked all the manacles at once. He grabbed her hands and pulled her up. She wobbled and almost fell but focused on maintaining her balance.

He looked into her eyes and reached into a pocket of his uniform. "I got this back for you; thought you'd want it."

She looked down to his hand and gasped. There was a wand with carved vines wrapping around it. She smiled and immediately reached out her right hand to grab it. It felt different than she expected, like wood, but it was making her memories slide back into the right places. She grinned and quickly swished it in his direction making him flinch. He grabbed her other hand as the noise from the assault increased dramatically. She looked over to Luna and saw her on the floor with her rescuer's hand on her shoulder. He was talking softly to her. She nodded and moved to get up. The redhead paused and looked over at the two.

"Mate, we need to move! Mine is doing all right; she can walk. You need some help with Luna?"

"No. Get her to your Mum's! We'll be right behind you."

She felt a pull on her hand and moved to follow him out the door the uniformed people had entered. The darkened room they entered was immense. She let him direct her while she scanned the space. Large tan or sand colored military vehicles were close by and large crates rose above them in the background. A short walk took them out of the building to an open parking area with large lorries and a few passenger cars. Two women and a man, all in the same uniform, were together looking at a paper that the man was holding a light over. The shorter woman looked up.

"Do you have a status?"

She felt the tugging stop as he looked over to the group.

"Not an official one, no ma'am. I will report what I observed. There were three men and one woman holding two women hostage. Aaron Proudfoot entered first, stunned the woman and drew the attention of the three men standing."

Luna and her rescuer trotted up while the redhead continued by pointing to himself and the other man.

"We entered next in order to pin the perpetrators away from our entry and, hopefully, the hostages. That worked out well. The rest of the team entered and we were assigned to remove the ladies. I saw a man's body on the floor as we left. I don't know if it was a victim or perpetrator. When we exited, I observed that the team had the kidnappers backed into a room, but they weren't giving up."

"Alright, I'll get the rest from the team leader after this is over. Take the hostages away from the scene but not to the Ministry or the hospital. Ensure they know that their testimonies will be required later."

"Yes ma'am." She felt him pull her to a line of parked cars. He stopped at the first one and turned to face her while still holding her hand.

"You look a bit confused, and I'm not sure you can get there by yourself, so I'm going to take you. Is that all right?" She looked at his face with his off-kilter smile and his name came to her along with the name of his partner. She realized she's known them since they were children and she trusted them. She nodded, of course he should drive; he knows where they're going. He turned them to face the car and squeezed her hand. It puzzled her why they had shown up with the team to rescue her. She hadn't even known that they were trained to do that kind of thing. How could they have the time when they've worked so much with her? She took a step toward the car when her universe changed. A quick twist occurred in her stomach like something tugging at her naval, followed immediately by a squeezing that seemed to push the air out of her lungs. Then the parking lot disappeared. She felt for a moment that she was being wrenched through a rubber tube and spun at a high rate of speed. Then the outside world reappeared. She was dizzy, nauseous and in a completely different place. She rounded on the three red-headed men holding her hand. They merged into one just in time for her to shout.

"What the fuck, Rupe?! How the bloody hell did you do that?"

Ron sputtered a second, struck dumb by Hermione using such strong language. She looked around, trying to calm her stomach. They were on a dirt road, lit bright by a full moon, near a fence that looked like the entrance to someone's property. She followed the lane with her eyes, caught sight of the house, and gasped loudly.

"Oh my God!", she exclaimed pointing. "Is that….is that the Burrow?!"

Just then, Harry and Luna popped into existence a few feet away. Stumbling back from them, Emma Charlotte Duerre Watson let go of Ron Weasley's hand and unceremoniously sat in the grass.

/-/-/-/

 **A/N: Yeah, my Hermione greatly resembles Emma Watson. Also many of the other actors will, of necessity for this story, resemble people that Hermione knows.**


	16. All that was me is gone

**A/N: Sorry for the massive delay. Life has lots going on…time is a precious commodity.**

 **16\. All that was me is gone**

The sounds came first. Quite a variety of sounds. Mechanical growling and whining noises, automobile traffic, birds twittering, some tapping noises nearby and ….talking? A crowd of people must be close to her. She wished they would quiet down so her throbbing headache would lessen. That seemed unlikely and, besides, her body decided to make itself known at that moment by passing pain signals from every location. Her joints complained the most with tiny fiery jolts of agony each time she was jostled. She couldn't keep from moaning whenever she was bumped or prodded. Keeping her eyes shut, Hermione tried to discretely move her right arm and found it was restricted but could wiggle. A subsequent attempt to roll her head to the side was also thwarted by whatever spell had been cast on her. She was trapped. Rather, she was still trapped as her cloudy mind provided her with an image of manacles and a chair.

Light began to appear in her vision. She could tell it was bright where she was because it filtered through her closed eyelids. Her nose caught wind of an acrid burnt odor similar to when Harry had caught his wool glove on fire in potions. Other smells wove in on a breeze to mix with the harsh one. There was a flowery perfume, a bit of freshly cut grass and a follow-up of curry and bread. Those seemed rather odd, but she couldn't quite place why she thought them odd. Then she felt hands on her. She wanted to stiffen but forced herself to remain relaxed.

A woman's voice, "Alright, I've got the neck. Ready? On three. One…Two…Three, lift!" She felt herself elevated and then moved sideways. The pain in her joints forced a moan from her.

"Steady. Oi! Straighten that strap. Good. Down slowly; center her. There we are!" Hermione was now lying on a slightly softer flat surface. One hand left the side of her head.

"Mickey, I need to see the back. We'll roll her this way. You on it? Good."

The young witch felt herself being held straight as she rolled to her right. She chanced opening her eyes while they were busy. The brightness caused her to squint, then blink rapidly. Very close to her was a silver bar or pipe. Beyond that was a large black automobile lying on its side. Behind her someone was touching different places on her back. Her vision cleared a bit more and she could read "Land Rover" on the back of the vehicle and see wispy smoke was rising from front and passenger compartment. On either side of the car, or truck maybe, was a crowd of people. Most were holding up their mobile phones. She focused on them a moment when one young man pointed at her and spoke to the others excitedly. They all waved at Hermione.

"Looking good, let's roll her back. That's right; steady…there! Strap her in. Oh! Look who's awake! I have to check you."

Looking at the sky, she wondered why the people were waving. It was confusing. She was bound by a spell, probably Incarcerous, and those people just stood there and watched? They were obviously muggles, so the magic that was being used was disguised somehow. A shadow blocked a part of the sky, drawing her attention to a witch pointing a lit end of a wand at her face.

Hermione screamed and the rear window of the Land Rover exploded. The wand wielding witch immediately threw herself in a protective position over her. The crowd of people started shouting.

A man's voice, "Did anyone see where that came from?"

Another man, muffled and scratchy, "No Sargent. Is it a sniper?"

"Can't say. Keep a watch on the buildings." Hermione heard a small click. "Wembly, CSO Greene, We may have shots fired on the M1 north, north of Edgware."

A woman's voice, muted, "Copy Greene. Do you have a location on the shooter?"

"No location. Maybe a shot; maybe something else. Two officers on scene of traffic accident…Greene and Pashir"

"Standing up one ARV; will deploy at your notification of active shooter."

"Copy Wembly. We'll shout if it heats up."

The witch over Hermione then moved back revealing the green uniform of a muggle emergency healer. No, not healer; she is called a paramedic or emergency tech. The woman reached out and touched her cheek and smiled. What was she doing here? Hermione's eyes darted between all the people she could see. The woman healer, a male healer, a man with graying hair and bandages on one arm, and an older woman with dark hair watching Hermione closely, her worry clearly visible.

"I see you're back with us.", the healer said and smiled at Hermione. "You've been in an automobile accident and we're going to get you to hospital. Do you feel any sharp pain anywhere?"

"N-no."

The healer kept smiling, "I need to check your eyes."

The 'wand' turned out to be a thin torch. The woman held it pointed away and then shined the light directly at Hermione's eyes. Then the torch was extinguished.

She spoke to the other paramedic. "Mickey, slow react; just a little. I'll drive. You prep the back."

She turned back to the young witch. "Do you know where you are?"

"Um…London?"

"Not quite. Could you tell me your full name, please?"

"Hermione Jean Granger."

A gasp to her left made her shift her eyes to the dark-haired woman. Hermione saw that she had a hand covering her mouth and wide eyes staring back at her. The witch looked back at the emergency tech who seemed slightly amused. There shouldn't be anything funny or shocking about her name. What was their problem? Her headache was getting worse and she was starting to feel nauseous.

"How old are you."

"20 years."

"Do you know where you live."

"In Stoke Newington."

"Ok. Let's load you up and off to hospital."

The two paramedics pulled up the platform that Hermione was laying on. A snapping noise signaled the end of the upward motion and they started rolling the gurney. It moved across bumpy ground and then smooth road before stopping at the back of an ambulance. They then worked from the end of the stretcher near her feet, pushing into the ambulance and collapsing the legs at the same time. Hermione found herself looking at the flat roof inside the treatment box of the vehicle. The nausea grew more urgent.

"I want to ride with her."

"Of course, Ms. Luesby, we expected that."

Hermione felt the ambulance shift slightly and saw the dark-haired woman on her left. She glanced at Hermione and gave her a quick smile, before scanning around for the seat. The male paramedic had entered and put his hand on the edge of the stretcher on her right. He leaned his head down below her range of vision and she heard a metallic click. He quickly moved to his seat and fumbled about until another click echoed in the compartment.

"Ma'am, you should belt in. We're moving as soon as the engine starts."

A third click rang out, followed quickly by "Ready."

He turned and hit the front wall twice, then spoke into a headset mic.

"Ang! Going to Northwick Park! Take Camrose to Charlton then the 'O-6!"

Hermione felt a touch on her shoulder as the vehicle lurched into motion. She turned her eyes to the woman, who held a smile on her anxious face.

"It'll be all right, Em. I'll stay with you the whole time."

Through her increasing nausea, Hermione managed to communicate her confusion to the older woman.

"You hit your head on the door when the Rover flipped. I know you're mixed up but your Mum's right here."

The witch rapidly shifted her eyes around the jostling vehicle, her worry and queasiness rising uncomfortably.

"Mum?!"

"What is it, Em?"

Hermione immediately recognized the sudden cold washing over her and tried to turn her head to no avail. Her stomach heaved and vomit spouted upward before making the inevitable fall to her face, neck and hair. She felt a small hand trying to wipe the liquid from around her mouth. She closed her eyes as she felt some flowing toward them along her cheek.

"Don't turn her head or move it much. Just clear it away."

"She'll drown!"

"Not as long as she's conscious. Take these flannels and keep pushing most of it away. She can spit out the rest. I'll see if we can give her some meds."

"Oh, Em! I have you. Just relax and spit into this."

She felt a gentle hand with a cloth wipe her eyes and the rest of her face. She spat into the proffered fabric.

"That is vile!", she complained

"I believe you. It smells terrible. I think the tabloids are going to love this!"

"You won't tell them, will you? They always try to print humiliating things about me."

"Of course, I won't, dear. Have I ever gone running to the press about you?"

Hermione paused for a moment. Then spoke her confusion, "I don't know. I think I'm missing something. How long have you known me?"

"Emma! I'm your mother!"

The instinctual protest was stifled quickly as Hermione finally realized that the rune must have been activated, and everything had changed. That information unsettled her stomach.

"I'm sorry, I am very confused right now….and I think I'm…"

Another fountain of vomit spewed upward. She moved her lips to direct it toward her chest and felt the slimy substance flow along her jaw with some entering her ears. Her 'mother' quickly cleaned the worst of it off her face. The paramedic leaned over her and shined a torch into her eyes, flicking it in and out of her vision. He reached up to the microphone of his headset.

"Northwick; her pupils are differentially reactive and she's vomiting. Request to string a drip."

He listened for a moment while Hermione felt her ears being swabbed out.

"Copy, set up a drip; no meds. Two-six out."

The paramedic grabbed a long pole off the bulkhead and attached it to the gurney. Reaching in a cabinet, he took a bag and tube out. The IV bag was quickly placed up on a hook at the end of the pole. Mickey strung the tube along her arm. Hermione felt a finger tap her forehead and she looked over at the woman.

"You shouldn't watch him. Remember when you gave blood? Oh…maybe you don't right now. Well, you fainted dead away." The woman cupped Hermione's cheek and smiled. "It'll be all right after they check you out at the hospital."

The male healer's voice interrupted, "Just a little pinch, in one, two…"

The sting made her jump slightly, but she kept her arm still. He taped the tube to her forearm and set up the drip. She could see the drip cup and decided to concentrate on it to possibly help with the nausea.

Drip.

The woman beside her clearly thought she was Hermione's mother and called her Emma. She didn't look confunded.

Drip.

Whatever it was that happened when the rune was activated, was, or caused a violent event. That would explain the devastation and fire in Luna's lab. The traffic accident was probably the result of her violent entry to this place.

Drip.

The paramedic seemed to know her as this Emma Luesby and reacted oddly to hearing Hermione give her name. The crowd of people waved for some reason, maybe this Emma was famous. Did she change bodies? When Hermione said her name, the mother's reaction was also strange; shocked, but….some bit of recognition.

Drip

Hermione had seen the mirrors and heard the voices before waking up. With sickening realization, she remembered that there were two people. Each mirror contained a variation of Hermione along with a variation of Bellatrix Lestrange standing closely behind her. The crazy witch had traveled too but none of Luna's notes indicated that it was possible.

"Oh great! Something new." she mumbled.

"Sorry, Em….what?"

Drip

The inertial pull from the turning ambulance made her quickly aware that watching the drip cup was doing very little to calm her roiling stomach. She glanced over at the woman who had taken her left hand while continuing to watch Hermione's face. Ms. Luesby's eyes widened a bit and she reached for more cloths before Hermione spoke.

"Oh…uh…Mum? I'm…."

Another outpouring heaved from her stomach. She'd thought there was nothing left to give and no chance that she could feel filthier. She was wrong on both counts. Her mother tended to her and attempted to remove the expelled slimy liquid from her face and neck. The ride continued in silence broken by occasional comforting words and touches from her mother. The nausea seemed to have peaked and she only dry-heaved a few times.

A quick turn and stop signaled their arrival at the hospital. Mickey leapt into action to reach down and unlatch the gurney. The rear doors flew open and Hermione felt the stuttering pull of the cart being removed from the ambulance as its legs were extended. Her view of the sky was quickly interrupted by white square steel tubing girders holding up a wavy covering. She then passed through a set of glass doors and winced as the noise level increased dramatically. She could hear the medic, Angie, speaking quickly but didn't catch the conversation. A young woman appeared next to the moving gurney, blond hair with purple streaks framing her face.

"Hello Emma. I'm Dr. Kadera. Oh! Erm, you're a bit of a mess. You've got a few bumps but I'm mostly concerned with your head injury. How is your vision? Blurry?"

"No..uh..I'm nauseous and it's very bright in here. It hurts a lot on the right side of my head and the throbbing is terrible."

"OK. Those symptoms make me want to get a look inside as quickly as possible. We're moving you to the MRI right now. I can't give you anything for the pain until I know more about your injury."

A male voice down toward her feet, "Dr, the radiologist is working the operator from that collapsed gantry crane. He won't be available for 30 minutes or longer."

"I need an evaluation as soon as possible. Rafiq, please move Emma to…uh…seven and have her mother there with her. Ensure she knows to keep her daughter awake. I'm calling Dr. Branag and getting us a radiologist if I have to string up that misogynistic old fart by his lower large intestines. It's a workday and they can spare a tech."

Hermione heard the doctor stomp away while the chuckling man moved up by her head. He leaned over her, grinning as he started pushing her.

"She will do it, too, but I suggest using the small intestines. They are longer. The doctor, she is very passionate about her patients and she is a fan. Ah, Emma, I shall whisk you away to exam room seven! You will be just fine."

They actually didn't go far and Emma's mother was close behind as the gurney passed through the opening to the small room. Hermione felt a small hand on her cheek and looked over to the older woman. She kept her hand on the young witch's face and smiled.

"It's not often I get to take care of you anymore. Speaking of which, maybe I should look for more cloths to clean you up."

Her mum boldly started looking into the cabinets on one side of the room. Hermione lost sight of her but could hear doors and drawers opening and closing. There was a small "Ah-ha" and then, moments later, running water.

"Now we're cooking! Let's see if we can pretty you up a bit."

A cool wet cloth touched Hermione's forehead. She could hardly believe how completely soothing it felt. Ms. Luesby slowly and gently began washing her face. Obviously unwilling to endure the quiet, she started a one-sided conversation. Hermione let her concentration drift.

"They were already behind on today's set. I knew we should have left earlier, the traffic was slowing us more. You know, Mr. Yates is going to go spare. They needed you to shoot today. Now the producers will have to arrange a different location. This whole day was about you and Daniel."

"Er…mum? Am I going to be here long? I don't want to make them have to change everything"

"Oh no you don't! Just because it's difficult, that's no reason to risk your health. They can just move from Godrick's Hollow to something else."

Hermione gasped, "Godrick's Hollow!? We were going there?"

"Oh, my baby! Don't you remember? You were so worried that you weren't ready to go today. Now, you might have to wait a while. Oh, and you're supposed to meet with Helena, the day after tomorrow. We'll have to get Renee' to work things if you're hurt enough to keep you out a week or more. You don't need to worry about that; just concentrate on getting better."

"OK."

Hermione had closed her eyes under the comforting ministrations with the damp cloths. Her mother shifted the conversation to when Emma was in primary school. Slowly, her voice faded and Hermione shifted to thinking pleasantly about Luna laying next to her whispering about how soft her hair was. Luna's voice drifted softly away. Then there was a tender stroking along her jaw and neck while the voice tone lowered as Ron began complementing her beautiful skin. He brought his mouth close to her ear and whispered, "Emma?" Luna walked up beside her and observed Ron beginning a line of kisses down her neck. She turned toward Hermione with a hurt expression and cried out, "Emma!"

"Emma!"

Hermione's eyes snapped open and she drew in a quick breath.

"Emma, you frightened me! You can't go to sleep…not until they evaluate your head injury.

"I'm sorry. Those cool cloths were so soothing. I feel so much better; cleaner and not as nauseous. Thank you! That was very nice."

The older woman reached out, grabbing her hand and squeezing it.

"It feels good to help you. I've felt so left out since you've gotten big."

"That's not true. You still have so much to teach h..me. How to be a strong woman and make a difference. I'll also probably need guidance when I have children."

"Oh, so you've changed your mind about being a mother?"

Hermione grimaced, "Uh…well, I'm thinking about it."

"Right. Perhaps we should save that one for later." Ms. Luesby laughed and put her palm on Hermione's cheek.

Rafiq's baritone interrupted their moment. "Time to roll again Emma! The MRI ride is warmed up and manned by one of our highly trained technicians."

She looked up and caught the light from the overhead refracting through the swinging IV bag. She squinted then tried to blink the purple spots from her vision.

"Is she gonna be alright?" She thought it sounded like Ron and tried looking where the voice was.

"Sir, you need to go back to the waiting area." The gurney started moving.

"I got a text she was in an accident…."

"Rupert, she'll be just fine. I'm the only one allowed here." said Ms. Luesby in a soft voice.

"Right…uh…sorry. I sorta bulled my way in here. I'll go, but I can come back when she's in a room…or whatever, ok?"

"Yes, I'll make sure you're allowed to visit. Dan too."

His voice was getting further away. "Ok, thank you."

Rafiq leaned forward to look down at her. "He's gutsy to just waltz in here like that. You guys an item?"

"He's known Emma since they were ten. Just good friends."

"Ah, well, I'm not really much of a follower. Here we go! Lesedi, here's our favorite magical lady, ready for a look inside her brain."

"Hello Emma!" spoke a female with a New Zealand accent. "Oh, is this your mother here with you? Don't worry, Ma'am. We'll take good care of your daughter. Raf, let's move her to the trolley."

The dark skinned medical technician moved to her head and man moved to her hip. She felt the gurney jockey back and forth a bit. Then the straps holding her, which she didn't remember, were removed. Small hands grabbed her under her shoulders and large arms lifted under her thighs and lower back. They pushed the gurney aside and moved her to the MRI machine bed, laying her down gently. Then the neck brace was removed.

Lesedi softly spoke, "No worries Emma, I will roll you into the machine slowly and get a set of images inside your head. Don't nod! When I start moving you, please stay as still as possible."

"I understand." the young witch nervously replied.

A loud hollow banging startled her enough that she felt her magic surge. The banging stopped.

Rafiq exclaimed, "What was that flash? What happened?"

Lesedi replied, "Maybe a problem with the startup sequence. I've never seen it before. Here, I'll just start it again."

The banging began again but Hermione was ready this time and remained calm. She started taking slow deep breaths. The trolley began moving her into the lighted circular compartment and she responded by shallowing her breaths.

After the MRI, she was ensconced in the neck brace and rolled back to exam room seven. Hermione reveled in the freedom to move her arms again.

It was only a short wait before Dr. Kadera strode into the small room. She was smiling.

"Good news! There is nothing wrong that requires immediate action. Now, you have a minor fracture just above your right ear and there has been some bleeding into your brain. Looks like some problems with your inner ear too. Those two things combined to give you the headache and terrible nausea. I want to have you watched for a few days. So, I've already set up a room where you can rest and be left alone. I have set a 'scrip for pain meds. Your nursing team will give you a dose when you get to your room. Rafiq will make sure you get situated and I'll see that your physician is notified. Emma, I glad you're going to be fine and it's been my honor to help."

She set her hand on Hermione's arm and began to turn away. She stopped and looked at Rafiq.

"You can take off the neck brace; there's no danger." She moved toward the door.

Hermione spoke up. "Dr. Kadera; thank you….so much."

"You're welcome, Emma."

Rafiq efficiently unbuckled the neck brace and deposited it in the room's basin. He couldn't keep himself from commenting as he washed his hands. "They say 'better out than in', but I disagree. I'm sure you wish that had stayed inside."

Hermione just grimaced and looked over at the older woman in the room. Ms. Luesby moved over to walk next to the gurney as it started to move. The young witch turned her head to look around as they moved into the passageway. She observed the other patients and most of the staff watching her. When they caught her looking back, they quickly turned their attention to something else.

The nurse sped up a bit when he noticed her self-conscious expression.

"Let's get you to that private room and out of the public eye, shall we?"

Ms. Luesby hummed her agreement, "We would be able to relax a bit more easily."

The double doors ahead of them opened automatically and they passed through to a wider space with six lift entrances, three on each side. Hermione heard some movement on her left as Rafiq spoke up.

"Sir, you need to stand away…oh…it's you."

"Well, I see you've made sure you don't have to work."

She turned toward the voice as the red-headed young man reached the side of the gurney. He continued while smiling, "Putting us behind, as usual."

It was Ron.

She quickly grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him downward into a hug. She whispered anxiously into his ear.

"You've got to get me out of here as soon as you can. Come up to the room with us, then sneak in later. You can take me to your parents'…or maybe Grimmald."

"O..K.. uh…Em. I like you too…but…you can let go now." He helped lower her back to the cart. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you reek something awful. I was just making sure you weren't hurt too badly." He pulled away as she let go of him.

One of the lift doors opened and the nurse pushed the cart toward the opening.

"Rupert, perhaps you can come visit _after_ Emma's been cleaned up a bit." Ms. Luesby recommended.

"Sure. Now that I know you're alright, maybe I can see you tomorrow night. OK Em?"

Hermione nodded while replying, "Yes, I would like that."

The redhead turned and sauntered away as Hermione was pushed past the doors. The older woman joined her, squeezing her hand. The doors closed and they started upward.

Ms. Luesby began to chuckle. "I think you scared him away. I wonder what it was?"

The older woman's tone and comment struck Hermione as humorous and she replied. "It could be he's allergic to my perfume."

"I believe it was the chunks on your shirt." Rafiq intoned. "Some people have no sense of style."

The two women burst out laughing. Hermione brought her hand to her right ear.

"Ow! You shouldn't make me do that! I might add more style to my clothes!"

The large man pounded the wall as he bent over laughing. The dark-haired woman spoke up, "You're the height of fashion now. More decoration would just be gaudy!"

A fresh bout of laughter erupted but quickly subsided to snickers when Hermione gasped while holding hand to her head.

The lift stopped at the level four and the doors slid open. The chuckling trio moved into the corridor, turning left toward the front desk for the ward. Hermione watched Ms. Luesby look down at her with an obvious expression of relief. The gurney slowed as they passed the desk and the attendant handed Rafiq a clipboard and spoke to the older woman. "You already have a visitor. She came up and asked to wait in the room. I recognized her; Evanna Lynch. That's alright, isn't it."

Emma's mother nodded, "Yes, that's fine. I'll let them talk a moment. Then Emma needs cleaned up and some rest."

The room was only two doors down from the nurses station and they were soon turning to enter it.

"Hello, Evanna. You got here quickly. So did Rupert."

"Oh, hello Ms. Luesby. Hello Em. Rupe and I were working out some parts of the dungeon scene with Mr. Randall. I was on my way in when I received the text from PR about Emma. I wasn't far away and I guess Rupe was close by too."

The blond moved over to the far side of the bed and sat on a padded chair facing them. The gurney stopped near the bed.

Rafiq looked at Hermione. "We are going to move you to the bed but have you sit on the edge. Now Emma, we need you to tell us if you feel that you need to lie down."

"I will, Rafiq."

Rafiq moved to her side and one of the ward nurses moved to the other. Slowly, they sat her up; and waited. Hermione felt dizzy but not overly so. She nodded her assent for them to continue. Rafiq took her legs and turned her so she face the bed. The lifted her to her feet and guided her so she was sitting on the hospital bed. Rafiq left her side and prepared the gurney to leave. He turned to Hermione.

"This is where I leave you, magical lady. You must change clothes and clean up a bit. Goodbye Emma."

"Thank you for all your help, Rafiq."

"My pleasure."

He rolled the cart out as another nurse strode carrying a steaming basin and a patient's robe. The two nurses waited for the room's door to click shut, then began to efficiently remove the witch's clothes, cleaning her as they went. Hermione carefully maneuvered her body so that Ms. Luesby didn't see her scars. She doubted that Emma Luesby had any such and didn't want to answer a lot of questions. Soon the clothes were in a bag and she was lying down in a robe and knickers. The nurses walked out and Ms. Luesby stood up to follow them.

"Emma, I going to ask about dinner and call your father before he gets the news from the services or the wire. You and Evanna can talk until I come back. Then you need to rest." She walked out and shut the door.

Hermione looked over at her visitor.

"Hello Hermione, I see you've activated the rune. It was a quite an entrance. I arrived in Evanna's bed. The room was very cluttered after I woke up."

"Luna?!"

"Yes, but here I am Evanna Lynch, and you…"

"Emma Luesby, I know."

"No, it's Emma Watson. Her parents are divorced."

"This is a strange feeling; being in another person's life and looking like them."

"Emma; I'll call you Em or Emma to get you used to it; things are about to get really strange."

Luna reached into a small briefcase and pulled out a magazine. She opened it and set it in front of Hermione. The left page was dominated by two side-by-side pictures. One of Hermione in a grey hooded sweater wielding her wand, and another of her, wearing considerably less, arm in arm with a tall dark haired young man. The headline below the pictures stated 'Emma Watson calls it quits with her latest beau!'. She looked up at Luna.

Luna smiled at her. "Those are both pictures of Emma Watson. She is an actress and plays Hermione Granger in a series of movies about Harry Potter. Evanna Lynch plays Luna Lovegood."

"How do they know about Harry?"

"They don't. This is not our world, maybe not our universe. There are no magical humans here, at least none that I could find; no magical creatures, no ghosts…none of the things we recognize. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger are fictional characters made up by author J.K. Rowling."

"No magic?"

"Yes there is magic here but we can talk about that later. Your mother is coming. I will be back tomorrow."

Luna stood up, waved goodbye and walked out of the room.


End file.
